


Corruption

by K (Thiswasmydesign)



Series: Corruption Series [1]
Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga), Death Note: Another Note
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Beyond Birthday Being Creepy, Beyond has neither subtlety nor chill, Developing Relationship, F/M, FBI Naomi, Flirting, Jam, Kira Case, L ships it, Leather Jackets, M/M, Motorcycles, Not even to a traffic signal, Prison, Relationship breakdown, Suggestive Flirting, and its most inappropriate solution, creeper B, fair degree of humour, good girl breaking the rules, ignoring traffic lights, isn't that just normal B?, recommendation not to take dating advice from a multiple murderer, sexual harrassment in the workplace, trading information, trading secrets for jam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-04-04 21:50:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 71,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14029476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thiswasmydesign/pseuds/K
Summary: After the LA BB murder case Naomi Misora has finally returned to work for the FBI as planned. Her first task on her return, requested through the pipeline by L, is to interrogate Beyond Birthday, who has not told any of the investigators anything about his crimes up to that point.Beyond proves himself useful to the FBI to help solve the cases that they are stuck on, and so Naomi is sent back again and again, and gradually is drawn into Beyond's web.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hadn't intended to write this. I actually went searching for a story like this because I thought it would have been done before, but when I couldn't find one I was so disappointed I started to write it and this is what has spilled out so far.  
> Yes, there are some Hannibal themes initially in here (not Hannibal TV) based on that it's an FBI agent trading information about herself for information about cases; this is NOT intended as a Hannibal AU and there is definitely no cannibalism. Hey, look, I already wrote one of those.

Naomi Misora was still not sure that she had recovered from the LA BB murder case, but her date to return to the FBI had come too quickly and a positive word from L had secured her position more than ever before. Despite herself, Misora woke at the usual time, dressed in the usual standard issue suit, with trousers and not a skirt, and set off to her work as if it were any other day and not her first day back. As if things would be the same and she hadn’t let a killer go just because he was 13 years old.

The department wouldn’t know about her role in the LA BB murder case. She didn’t expect that the high ups that L had given her reference to would pass on the message to those in her own office, and so she didn’t expect any special treatment and it seemed she wasn’t going to get any, having been called to her commanding officer’s office within the first ten minutes she was in the building.

“Misora,” he greeted, business like as ever. “Welcome back. I trust in your time away you’ve kept up to speed with developments?”

“Yes, Sir,” she formally confirmed. Though her boss had two seats for guests on the other side of his desk to him, he never offered for her to sit and so she remained standing.

“Well, I hope you’re ready to jump right back in,” he set a file on to her side of the desk. “Take a look at this assignment. The commanding officers have specifically requested you, for some reason.”

Misora opened the plain brown file and stilled at the picture on the inside cover; Rue Ryuzaki, the LA BB killer.

“Sir?” she asked curiously.

“He’s got a life sentence of course, without parole,” her boss told her. “The LA BB killer. L himself had to get involved to catch this one.”

“What would my assignment be, Sir?” Misora questioned, flicking through the case evidence, all familiar to her.

“He’s out of the hospital now,” her boss explained. “But he still won’t talk. For some reason they think he might talk to you. Get a confession, and some other things. So far as we can tell he’s a rather unique killer and the FBI would like to investigate further into how his mind works. He’s a new sort of killer, Misora.”

“Why me?” she questioned, wondering how much he knew about her involvement in the case.

“Maybe he likes a pretty face,” her boss almost leered, sending a shiver of disgust down her spine. She was used to the looks she got from the other officers, knew that reporting any misconduct would get her nowhere, but her boss was particularly unpleasant.

He disgusted her so much that if she had to chose between Ryuzaki’s strange excuse for flirting and her boss’, she would actually prefer the creep Ryuzaki.

“Now, Misora, if you aren’t ready for such a difficult assignment I’m sure we can suggest it get passed on to someone else,” her boss began, reaching for the file. Misora almost snatched it from the table, clutching it to her chest protectively.

“No,” she tried not to glare at him. “Of course I’ll take it.”

“You’re sure you can handle this one?”

“Absolutely,” Misora promised, hoping that she could live up to her word. “When do I begin?”

“They’re expecting you in one hour,” her boss grinned, watching for her response. One hour was hardly enough time to travel to Ryuzaki’s prison, never mind pass security checks and ready the file. It was a good thing she already knew the case inside and out.

“I’ll head out then,” she agreed, leaving right away.

* * *

 

The security checks at high security prisons always took time, but Misora was sure that they took extra special care with hers that day, and she was late to reach the meeting rooms, where the guards waited.

“Naomi Misora, FBI,” she offered her ID to the guard as proof.

“Yes, we've been expecting you,” the guard sounded bored. No doubt because he had already been waiting for fifteen minutes, perhaps more. Misora tried not to show her frustration at being late, sure that this was arranged specifically so that she would be. “The prisoner is waiting in the meeting room. He is restrained, but you must be careful. Do not allow any part of your body to go past the white line on the table, this is the length of his reach in the handcuffs and he is a dangerous man. Miss Misora, you will also be careful with what you say. Do not allow him to get to you. If you even start to feel upset, you press the red button and we let you out. If you have any other concerns, press the red button. Oh, and the meeting will be monitored on cameras and recorded for the detective in charge of the case.”

L, Misora thought, glancing at a camera that was in the hallway and focused on her face. She resisted a sudden and rather ridiculous temptation to wave to the detective.

“Does he get any visitors?” she asked the guard, thinking of the last months whilst Ryuzaki had been kept in the prison.

“Huh?” the guard looked surprised by the question. “Nah, never had a one.”

“Is he not allowed them?” she wondered curiously.

“Far as I know there are no restrictions,” he shrugged, looking quizzically at her. “Guess his friends left him when he started _murdering people_.”

“None at all?” Misora was indeed surprised, despite what the guard thought. She was surprised that L had not been tempted to visit, since he knew Ryuzaki, though he called the false detective B. “No family, no one?”

“No one. You'll be the first friendly face he's seen for weeks.”

So, once again, Misora found herself in the place of L, his eyes and ears, his mouthpiece. She wondered whether he would contact her again, or whether her own way of doing things would be good enough.

“I'm not sure I'm all that friendly,” Misora laughed, a simple statement that would allow her to think; consider what L might want to get out of this, since he was certainly the one monitoring the cameras rather than the FBI.

“The first person who isn’t a guard then.”

“Wonderful,” Misora had another thought about Ryuzaki’s isolation, one that did bother her more than working indirectly for L again. “I'm sure that's done brilliant things for his mental health.”

The guard laughed. “Mental's the right word for him alright.”

Oh dear, Misora thought. If she had found him creepy before, so creepy that she had been tempted to arrest him on sight.... “Well, that's okay. Sounds like not much has changed from the file.”

“Brace yourself, he looks about as bad as he acts,” the guard warned her. “Really did a number on himself with those burns, refused to get face grafts too.”

“Hell, it might be an improvement,” Misora joked, “I’m sure I can handle it.”

“You’ll have ten minutes from the moment the door closes,” the guard told her. “This is a trial meeting, just to make sure you can handle him. He’s… not easy.”

“Thank you,” Misora smiled sweetly. “But I promise, I’m tougher than I look.”

Misora pushed open the door to the interview room where the figure that she knew must be Ryuzaki was handcuffed and shackled to a large table. It felt dishonest, to hide her flinch, her recoil at the sight of the burned and twisted flesh, some of the skin hanging loose from the muscle beneath as if melted by candle wax. Ryuzaki's eyes stared out of sunken pits left by the distortion, somehow undamaged despite the burns. Yet, despite his burns and the cuffs binding him in a more normal sitting position, he was still recognisably the same man she had met during the case. Misora wondered how much of that was the intelligent but creepy, unblinking eyes and the shit eating grin.

Misora nodded to the guard, dismissing him with thanks, and took her seat at the opposite side of the table.

“Ryuzaki,” she opened with, deciding not to pull her punches. “You look terrible.”

“Why thank you,” the strange man almost preened, posing strangely. “You're looking rather glorious yourself. I like a girl in uniform.”

Misora rolled her eyes at him, a little bile rising in her throat at the flirtation. However, she did not think getting in to an argument about him would be very productive, so quickly changed the subject.

“The guards told me you've had no visitors.”

“Ah,” he sat back in his chair, tilting his head to the side so his ear touched his shoulder, watching her still. “Orphans lot I'm afraid. No family to come comfort poor, helpless little Rue.”

Misora almost twitched, wondering whether that was new information, that he was an orphan, that he had no family. She imagined it was the kind of thing that could be found on a simple background check but Ryuzaki existed solely within his alias names, and a background check would yield nothing based on that. She wondered too if it was honest, if he was truly an orphan. She had not expected to get any information out of him easily and reminded herself not to get too excited; if he was telling her so freely it was probably either a lie or a truth that was already known.

“You're a serial killer, you don’t get to be sorry for yourself,” she challenged, regretting it instantly. She was meant to be ingratiating herself to him, not causing a fight.

Ryuzaki looked offended, but it was a theatrical gesture, overacted and insincere.

“I _only_ killed three people,” he argued, “that's hardly enough to be a serial killer.”

Misora narrowed her eyes at the creep. “How many do you consider serial?”

“Oh, I'd say at least five,” Ryuzaki was so casual about it, but still overacted; he was checking underneath his fingernails as he spoke, scraping out a little of something red-brown and crusty that could possibly be blood; Misora almost wondered where he would have got blood under his nails in a prison before stopping that train of thought so that she did not get distracted.

“Congratulations, you're over halfway there,” Misora dryly noted. “A mass murderer then?”

“I prefer the term multiple murderer,” Ryuzaki corrected. “Mass murderer suggests more than one at a time.”

“Fine. You're a multiple murderer, you don’t get to feel sorry for yourself,” Misora clarified with a huff.

“Better. Now did those fools at the FBI send you for a reason or just this nice chat?”

“Who said they sent me?”

“You wouldn’t visit otherwise,” Ryuzaki pointed out.

“You wouldn’t talk about your murders when they interrogated you,” she noted. “I guess they thought with our connection I might get more information.”

Ryuzaki sat forward abruptly, reaching most of the way across the table to the white line, palms facing upwards as if offering to take her hands. “Aww Misora, we have a connection?”

“Because we were both involved in the case,” Misora corrected the suggestive tone.

“Nothing... more?” Ryuzaki made the simple words lewd with a wiggle of where his eyebrows would be had they not been lost to the flames.

“No, you creep,” Misora snapped, and boy did it feel good to actually call him that rather than to pretend and be professional like she had to when they were working the case together as false detectives. She spared a thought for what L would think about her being unprofessional now, but concluded that from what she knew of L, he would be more interested in seeing if she could handle herself around Ryuzaki and wouldn’t care how she did it, unprofessional or not.

“Ah Misora, play nice,” he scolded, “seduction isn’t a bad way to get more information from a suspect.”

“Dream on Ryuzaki,” Misora glared at him, disgusted.

“Beyond. Call me Beyond, since we have a _connection_.”

Misora sat back in her chair, resisting the temptation to groan. “You're not going to let that go are you?”

“No chance,” he giggled.

“Damn.”

“So, they sent a pretty face and expected me to spill my life story?”

“That'd be nice,” she didn’t honestly expect him to just start talking, but that almost sounded like an offer and it was worth a go.

“Not gonna happen.”

“I suspected you'd say that,” she shrugged, unaffected.

“Then why did you come?” he challenged.

“To convince you.”

“And how do you expect to do that if you _aren’t_ going to seduce me?” He smirked, baring teeth that were stark white against the burned red flesh.

“You're bored, you're lonely,” she accused. “You need someone to talk to.”

“You're going to be my friend?” he crooned the last word.

“No.”

“Ah, but you're going to act like it,” Beyond giggled. “Same thing.”

“No, it's really not,” she scowled at him.

“To me it is. I've never had a _real_ friend before,” Beyond sounded sorry for himself then.

“Why am I not surprised?” Misora joked, but… that was interesting. Perhaps he wanted her to pick up on it, to ask about it, but she could _tell_ that was a lie. She wondered if she should rise to the bait and ask but decided against it. She didn’t want him to lead them down a false track. “And I suppose with that accent of yours any friends would live a long way away from here anyway?”

“Which accent is that? This one? This one?” Beyond deliberately twisted his voice - British, Spanish, French.

“You should stick with the British one,” Misora told him, “it sounds most convincing on villains.”

“Sexy, too,” Beyond did that strange eyebrow-less waggle again.

“Time’s up.”

Misora started, the chair she was sat on rattling tellingly. She had been so engrossed in the back and forth with Beyond that she hadn’t even heard the door open behind her and the guard enter. Beyond saw it and burst into cackling laughter.

“That didn’t feel like ten minutes,” Misora muttered, under her breath but of course Beyond heard her.

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” he beamed. His tongue flicked out and wet his lips; she was quite convinced that he did so only to disturb her. “Until next time, Misora.”

“Beyond.”

* * *

 

Misora sat at home that night, a notebook open in front of her ready to prepare her report.

L would have seen everything, and she was sure that he wouldn’t care about her methods but at the same time she was concerned that she had got carried away and shown herself up. She hadn’t been willing to back down from Beyond’s taunts, and she was sure he would judge her for it. She judged herself.

She had written one report for the FBI, carefully crafted to detail only the necessary information, the things she had learned that might interest them. There wasn’t much; she would have to rely on L if she wanted to continue these meetings.

She hated to admit that she did. Rue Ryuzaki – Beyond – was a puzzle, and she wanted to solve it.

Misora’s pen scratched across the notebook as she separated the page into two columns and titled them; things I know for sure and maybe.

For sure

-Beyond had at least one friend before

Not very specific, but it was more than she had known before and he was such a freak that she could have plausibly thought that he had been antisocial for his whole life. She was curious whether he had always been such a freak or whether he had friends who didn’t care how strange he was. The kind part of her hoped that it was the latter. Everyone should have a friend who cared for them no matter what.

\- Beyond is an alias. So is Rue Ryuzaki.

\- Beyond has a connection to L.

\- Beyond is sexually disinhibited.

She had not included that in her FBI report, though it would not have been unprofessional to do so. He was suggestive and inappropriate with her, and she was concerned that if her boss at the FBI knew that he might pull her off the case, thinking her a delicate flower or something similarly sexist. She recalled also Beyond’s shocking comment during the LA BB case about being an aggressive top; this sexual disinhibition was not just to stop her coming back to interview him but had been present back then also.

\- Beyond is bored.

This was the most obvious conclusion, since he had given her any information at all. He clearly wanted something to amuse himself with, wanted her to go back.

Maybe

\- Beyond is an orphan

She had not detected a lie here, but then she could not be sure she would pick up on a lie every time he told one.

\- Beyond would be willing to give us some more information. He would want something in return.

\- Beyond is happy to have survived.

She looked at that last one critically and crossed it out, correcting

\- Beyond is not unhappy to have survived.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Added tag; Beyond has neither subtlety nor chill, which is also an effective chapter summary.

“Misora.”

“Yes, Sir,” Naomi had barely set her bag down on her desk before being called in to the office the next day.

“You are to go back to the prison today,” he told her, setting a set of papers in front of her. “You are to present Ryuzaki with these and demand his opinion.”

“Sir?” Misora flicked through the file, a particularly troublesome case that had the LA police stumped but did not officially meet FBI criteria.

“Higher ups think he might be useful,” her boss didn’t sound so convinced. “Apparently he was some big shot detective before he went psycho and started killing people for shits and giggles.”

Misora had never appreciated how unprofessional her boss could be, particularly when she was the only one present, as if she were not respected enough to warrant the same care he took with some of the other officers he had higher opinions of. However, she did enjoy that he was clearly being kept out of the loop regarding Beyond and his real background, the fact that he was not a real detective before he was a killer, and that made her just a little happy.

“Why would he help us with the case?” Misora questioned.

“I don’t know, that’s your job,” he dismissed. “Bring back something good, yeah?”

“Yes sir,” Misora closed the file and left the office, preferring not to hang round any longer than she had to.

* * *

 

“Back so soon?” the guard greeted her once she was through security. “Honestly, I thought he’d be mad to let you come back but here you are.”

“Here I am,” Misora agreed. She didn’t care what this guard thought; his opinion was not what mattered. “I must be doing something right.”

“Well, the prisoner certainly seemed to think so,” the guard leered at her. “You really don’t want to know what he was doing all evening after you left.”

Misora cringed, since she could clearly guess the implication. However, the cringe faded into a frown. His face was not the only thing that had been burned; surely, if he had tried to do… that… so soon after he was burned it would have hurt him? She quickly dismissed the thought of whether he could still get it up after his self-immolation attempt before she could start to question whether that was why he was so suggestive with her; could he be frustrated? She resolved to add burned dick to her maybe list when she got home to satisfy her desire to smirk evilly at the thought, especially since she felt bad about that.

“You only have ten minutes again, but that excludes any time when he’s just reading about the case,” the guard told her. “So, when he’s reading don’t talk. If he talks we won’t count that in the time, unless you reply.”

“Alright,” Misora agreed, going into the room and shutting out the guard.

“Fancy seeing you here so soon, and in such a pretty blouse too,” Beyond grinned at her, gesturing to the chair opposite him invitingly as if he was the host at a dinner party rather than a prisoner in chains.

“I have a case for you to look at,” Misora told him, setting the file down on her side of the white line and pushing it across without reaching past the line with her hands.

“Straight to the point,” Beyond grumbled. “Not even a how are you doing Beyond? How was your day Beyond? Did you have a _good night_ Beyond?”

“Just look at the case,” Misora grumbled. “Then we can talk.”

“Promises, promises,” Beyond giggled, taking the file and opening it. Misora sat back as he flipped through quickly. “Done.”

“Any conclusions?”

“Did you really think it was going to be that easy?” Beyond grinned.

“What’s your price?” Misora didn’t see the point of trying to be subtle about it.

“Quid pro quo, Clarice,” Beyond joked in his best Anthony Hopkins impression. “Yes or no?”

“Honestly, I didn’t think you could be even more of a creep, but you’ve proved me wrong,” she scowled at him. “You know that ended very badly for Clarice.”

“Clarice got away very lightly, considering, it was the guards that really got it,” Beyond giggled. “And I have no interest in eating people… well, not in that sense.”

“Don’t…” Misora started to intervene but missed her chance to stop him as Beyond did the not-eyebrow wiggle. She was sure that he wouldn’t stop it now that he knew it unsettled her.

“You tell me about your day, doesn’t have to be anything _too_ personal if you’re scared,” Beyond suggested. “And I’ll give you information in return.”

“How about you give me information and I don’t stop coming back here?” Misora negotiated. “You’d get bored if I didn’t come back.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take. Yes or no, _Clarice?_ ”

“… no,” Misora determined, getting up and knocking on the door. The guard did not come, much to her chagrin and Beyond’s amusement.

“Seems you’re stuck with me a while longer,” he waved her back to the chair. “Why don’t we just chat them, hmm?”

Misora scowled at the door, feeling betrayed. If this was all being orchestrated by L, and the guard was getting his orders from L, that meant the detective was keeping her in here like this. If L actually wanted her to go through with this, wanted her to give Beyond little bits of herself in exchange for the information he wanted about the killer, who was she to argue? All the same she didn’t like it.

She sighed heavily. “Tell me about the case. If you give me something new, I’ll tell you something about my day.”

“I will be very angry if you’re lying,” Beyond reminded her. Misora nodded, accepting. “Take the third photo, what do you see?”

Beyond removed it from the file and pushed it across the white line on its side, not the right way up. Misora went to correct it but Beyond’s fist struck the table sharply, jolting her.

“Exactly like that, what do you see?” he asked again.

“Blood splatter,” Misora started with the obvious. She hesitated, corrected the alignment of the photo – Beyond allowing her this time – and then turned it back on its side. “Two separate blood splatters in the same area.”

“Did they test the two separately?” he questioned.

“They certainly sampled several points,” Misora considered. “You don’t think…”

“The second sample isn’t the killer,” he sounded bored. “It belongs to the intended victim, the one the killer took away with them. The police are looking for a motive for the wrong murder. The other girl was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“You understand that if this isn’t proven by the DNA test I will be very angry?” Misora checked. Beyond nodded. “Do you have anything else?”

“That’s enough for them to be going on with,” he shrugged, putting the file back together. “How was your first day back on duty, agent?”

“Dull,” Misora admitted. “I met you, wrote up the report, then in the afternoon it was all paperwork for other cases since I don’t have any of my own just now.”

“You’re far too good to be wasted behind an office desk,” Beyond scowled. “They need to get you back in the field as soon as possible.”

“Thank you. But they’re right, I need some time to get back into the swing of things…”

“You solved the most difficult case in LA history whilst you were on leave. You don’t need to get back into the swing of anything.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Misora smirked. “It wasn’t that hard.”

“Only because you had a charming, handsome, erudite detective helping you,” Beyond preened. “You’d have been helpless on your own.”

“I’m never helpless,” she glared.

“No, that capoeira really was something.”

“So it was you,” she laughed. “I thought it must have been of course, but then I wondered why you wouldn’t have just killed me before I could investigate any further.”

“Would have taken all the fun out of it,” Beyond shrugged. “Besides, your number wasn’t up yet.”

“You wanted to be caught,” Misora suggested.

“I wanted to be _almost_ caught,” he corrected. “Almost, close enough that it would always irritate L, but not to actually be stopped.”

“This was all about spiting L, then?” Misora confirmed. “You’d kill yourself and three other people just to annoy L?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Beyond shrugged. He must have realised that he had said too much, because he swiftly changed the subject. “What did you have for your dinner last night?”

“Chicken salad,” she allowed the pointless information.

“Eugh,” Beyond mimed gagging. “That’s even worse than they feed _me_ here.”

“I’m guessing you don’t get any all jam meals here?”

“Not even snacks,” Beyond looked really put out by that, so Misora snatched the opportunity.

“I could bring a jar of jam next time, if you’ll trade it for an honest answer to some of my questions?” she offered, spotting the opportunity.

“I’m already answering some of them,” he pointed out. “Bring the jam. We can share it if you like.”

“No thank you,” Misora winced at the idea. “I’ll bring the jam if you tell me what L did to piss you off so much?”

“He exists,” Beyond snapped.

“No jam unless you’re serious,” she scolded.

“I am serious,” he complained. “L’s very existence has been the absolute bane of my life since he first started investigating cases.”

“Why?”

“You’re asking too much for one jar of jam.”

“A part of why, then, one reason,” Misora negotiated, and Beyond sighed. Misora could almost see him weighing it up in his mind; the value of the jam against the information she wanted.

“He was the favourite at the orphanage,” Beyond told her eventually. Misora smiled encouragingly at him, but he didn’t tell her any more.

“Alright, I’ll bring jam.”

“Strawberry,” he demanded.

“Fine,” she nodded. “What orphanage?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Beyond growled, losing his patience and then abruptly leaning in close, grinning maniacally. “Or don’t go, just…”

“You’re disgusting,” Misora huffed, rolling her eyes as she realised that last outburst was entirely for effect as the guard had just opened the door behind her. “Could I have the file back?”

Beyond pushed it across the table to the white line, not quite over it, daring her to reach out and take it. Misora didn’t rise to the bait, happy to leave it if she had to, and eventually he did push it a few more inches across the table to her.

“Goodbye, Beyond.”

“Go fuck yourself, Misora,” Beyond purred suggestively, wiggling those lacking eyebrows.

* * *

 

“Did you have a good day?” Raye asked her when she met with him later for their date.

“I did, actually,” Misora told him honestly, surprised. Her meeting with Beyond wasn’t half as unpleasant as it could be, despite how creepy he was. He was challenging, that much was true, but he wasn’t beyond all reason and he was as intelligent as he had been as Ryuzaki, allowing enough information through to keep her (and hopefully L) interested whilst holding back so many thousands of secrets. Even his sexual comments didn’t bother her much; perhaps she was used to them on a lower level from her co-workers, and at least he was open about it rather than how her co-workers talked about her being her back.

She hadn’t even minded working on paperwork for other agents all afternoon once her report on Beyond and on the information he had given in the murder case, her ego somehow soothed by Beyond’s comment about her being wasted behind a desk. It would be only a matter of time before she was leading cases of her own again, back where she belonged out in the field.

“Mine was awful,” Raye complained. “This case I’m on is going nowhere, we’ve got absolutely no leads and no witnesses have come forward even though there’s CCTV that shows a group of people walk right past the most recent body about two minutes after they were killed.”

“I could take a look at the file?” Misora offered. “Maybe a fresh pair of eyes might help?”

“Naomi, I’ve been looking at this case for weeks, if I haven’t spotted it by now there’s nothing in there for you to see,” he argued, rolling his eyes. “You’re a good agent but you’re not better than me.”

“Sorry, I just thought…”

“No, I’m sorry,” Raye reached out and took her hand on the table, squeezing it. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, that was mean. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“It’s alright, I understand,” she comforted, squeezing back. “Why don’t we just forget work for tonight?”

“That sounds good,” Raye leaned across the table and kissed her, a peck on the lips.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fandom definately seem to believe that Naomi definitely deserved better than Raye Pember; Beyond agrees with this.

Weeks had passed, and Misora was back in the field working cases. The pressure on her time had increased but she was still reliably asked to go to speak with Beyond at least once per week, and she was beginning to learn more about him, her list growing by the visit but rarely with anything of any significance.

It had been strange and uncomfortable at first for Misora to realise that she was becoming comfortable talking with Beyond. His bizarre behaviour was at least the same every time and whilst creepy she was, disturbingly, beginning to get used to it over time. She never spoke freely with him, always wary about giving too much away in exchange for the information he offered, but increasingly their exchanges became more filled with weightier information, which meant that there was increasingly less to hide and more that they could talk about.

More important to the FBI were his tips on cases. Beyond had rare insight and could look at a file for minutes and come up with something that the agents had failed to find for months.

Misora wasn’t sure why she had thought Raye would be happy when Beyond found that missing connection in his case that solved it for him. She hadn’t ever had the chance to look at the file before she handed it over to Beyond, and he had looked at her with judgement in his sunken eyes.

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” he shoved the file back across the table, scornful. “You’re better than this, Misora.”

“It’s not my case,” she reminded him, opening the first page. “I haven’t looked at it before.”

“What happened to FBI working as a team?”

“I try to stay out of my boyfriend’s cases.”

“Ah, so this is his work?” Beyond snatched the notes and ran through the file once more, looking with more interest. “He’s not bad, but he’s not up to your standards, sweetie pie.”

Misora had got used to endlessly changing pet names over the weeks and took this one without comment. She only intervened when they became extraordinarily weird or insulting, like that time he had called her ‘babirusa’, which she had later checked online and found that it was a name for a particular kind of large, ugly, tusked pig.

Beyond had gone on to explain in intricate detail every mistake that Raye and his team had made in their investigation, so that by the end of the ten minutes they were allotted Naomi had to request longer and longer again after another ten minutes before Beyond finally told her his conclusion from the case. Presented to her like that with every single missed lead and wrong turn put in stark terms like that she was startled by how many mistakes were indeed present.

Of course, when she wrote up the report of the interview she hadn’t detailed all of Beyond’s monologue, preferring instead to simplify to the key points and his conclusion. However, Raye had still taken offence. It seemed that he hadn’t been the one to ask that Beyond should cast an eye over the case and he was upset that the murderer his girlfriend visited every week had been able to solve in under an hour a case that he had wasted nearly three months on. He took out his frustration with wine and a screaming match. Naomi was never afraid of Raye, knew he would never lay a hand on her, but she knew if she kept the argument going he would never be the one to back down and so she found herself apologising all night.

The day after the argument she was almost glad to be visiting Beyond Birthday, and once the guard let her in to the room she took her seat at the table swiftly, glaring daggers.

“What have I done now?” Beyond joked, grinning at her but the grin faded as she did not match it. “Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“I never should have brought you Raye’s case,” she snapped.

“Uh, that was something _you_ did,” Beyond pointed out, sitting back in his chair and scowling at her. “Did you come here to pick a fight?”

Misora opened her mouth to argue but then stopped herself, centring. “Maybe.”

“Fighting’s no fun without the possibility of angry sex after,” he complained. “What happened?”

“Raye didn’t ask for us to help with the case.”

“Us?” Beyond grinned, raising the few hairs that had started to re-grow from his eyebrows.

“Now is _not_ the time,” Misora huffed. “He’s angry with me for bringing it to you, and we argued, and I ended up pointing out some of the mistakes you showed me in his work.”

“Ah,” Beyond giggled. “I bet he loved that.”

“Oh, he was absolutely _delighted,”_ Misora growled. “Two bottles of wine delighted.”

“Ouch,” Beyond had the courtesy to look guilty, “did he hurt you?”

“No,” Misora sighed. “No, he’s not like that. He just... shouted a bit, that’s all.”

“Did you break up?”

“No,” she scowled as he winked at her. “Was that your plan all along?”

“No,” he sounded honest. “But it would have been a very pleasant side effect."

Misora crossed her arms, glaring daggers.

“Honestly, why are you even attracted to that douchebag anyway?” he questioned. “You never say anything nice about him, he’s always trying to stop you getting involved with cases and get you to leave the FBI, he’s not as intelligent as you and he’s not even nice to you.”

“There's not always an easy explanation, Beyond,” Misora spoke tiredly, much of the fight leaving her at the genuine puzzlement in Beyond’s tone.

“There should be,” he impressed, again sounding so genuine that it put Misora on the back foot. If she hadn’t known better she would have thought he was concerned for her, that he actually cared.

“We worked together first. We grew closer,” she explained, thinking back to those early days when she had caught his eye on a particularly difficult case. He had seemed impressed by her ability then, respected her talent for the job and didn’t ridicule her like the rest of her colleagues.

“He was convenient,” Beyond translated her explanation to.

“I guess, at first,” she admitted.

“That's not a good enough reason.”

“We're happy together,” she reasoned.

“You don’t seem all that happy.”

“We are,” she restated, not sure who she was trying to convince; Beyond or herself. He snorted, scornful.

“How much sex do you have?”

Misora reeled. “Beyond!”

“It's a valid question,” he pressed, leaning forwards so far that he was standing in the chair, his ankles still cuffed to the legs.

“It's inappropriate,” she huffed.

“Hello, nice to meet you, I'm Beyond Birthday,” the creepy man grinned broadly, waving at her enthusiastically.

“Ha ha,” she shook her head, exasperated. Losing her patience, she decided to turn it round on him. She was still meant to be investigating him, after all, not moaning to him about her own relationship difficulties.

“And what about you? Have you ever been in a relationship, Beyond?”

“Is this relevant to the FBI profile?” he continued to grin.

“It could be,” Misora couldn’t work out how she would argue that it was relevant at all to the FBI, but she was sure L was watching on and there was no piece of information that was not relevant in L’s view; he wanted to know everything, not a part.

“Or do you just want to know if I'm actually interested?” he questioned, leaning back in his chair with his legs spread apart. Misora resisted temptation to glance at his crotch.

“You make a good point,” she considered. “All this flirting, sometimes I think it's all a front.”

“A front?” he looked a little puzzled.

“It’s a bit over the top, like it’s hiding something,” she tapped a single finger on her chin, a silent movie acting for thinking. “Are you homosexual, Beyond?”

The prisoner scoffed. “What gives you that idea?”

“Well, you're obsessed with L for one...”

“Admittedly true,” he allowed.

“And we’ve had far too many conversations about the best make up products for any classically straight man,” she pointed out.

“Which I’m familiar with for disguise, besides even if I did cross dress that wouldn’t mean anything for my sexuality.”

“Well then, which are you?” Misora had started this to unsettle him but found herself genuinely curious although if asked she would not have been able to explain why.

“Why does everyone presume people have to be one or the other?” he complained eventually.

“Ah, so you're bisexual then?” she wondered. He snorted.

“If you must know, piglet, I'd be what you'd call pansexual.”

“Okay,” Misora wasn’t sure why she had pushed so hard for the irrelevant information. She had hoped to unsettle him, but Beyond didn’t seem at all affected, whilst she thought she'd have been happier not knowing and pretending that all his flirting had to be frivolous.

“Will that go into your report for the day, puddleduck?” he asked curiously.

“Yes,” she lied, about the FBI report anyway. It was absolutely none of their business. L would see it on the cameras, of course, if he was still watching after all these weeks.

“They film these sessions, don’t they?”

“Yes.”

“What do they think so far?” he wondered.

“Well, they're quite happy for me to compromise myself if it means your cooperation,” Misora explained bitterly. “All those leads you give them... the FBI are getting a bit reliant on you to solve the difficult cases, I think.”

“Speaking of which, our time must be running out for the day. The school fire in Texas, it wasn’t actually arson, the forensic examiner got it wrong. Tell them they're barking up the wrong tree, won’t you?”

Misora was stunned. They had done no bargaining, there had been no trade-off for this information. Beyond offered it freely, though if she thought about it there had been a trade. She had spilled far too much information about her relationship with Raye without anything much in return.

“They'll need more than that Beyond, half a dozen kids died.”

“The pattern of melted plastic on the fourth gas tap in the chem lab,” Beyond directed, making her wonder how he had seen the photos of the scene. She hadn’t brought them with her. “Someone left it on, probably by accident. Whole place would reek of the gas, but all it would take would be a spark, say from a kid lighting a cigarette.”

“Seems too easy to solve it then,” she frowned.

“That’s why no one bothered to see it.”

“I'll check it out,” she confirmed, getting up ready to leave.

“It's right,” he assured her.

“I'll still have to check it out. Thanks, Beyond.”

The strange man shrugged, a little bashful.

Naomi wondered what she was thanking him for; the case solution, or the inappropriate outlet for her relationship frustrations.

“See you next week?”

“Count on it,” Misora grinned.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misora has been visiting Beyond for a while now, and is slightly more used to his over-the-top ways. Things are actually going well, with Beyond helping on cases in exchange for small amounts of information about her (and jam).

Naomi Misora was on what they were calling a short leave of absence.

She just couldn’t win. The last time she had been in a life-or-death situation she hadn’t shot at the thirteen-year-old murderer and they had blamed her for the chaos that followed. This time she hadn’t hesitated, she had shot the lone gunman who was firing in the Walmart when she went shopping, a chance encounter, and she had been suspended.

Her boss bloviated for what felt like hours in front of the panel about her performance on cases, every compliment balanced with some criticism that was entirely without evidence and unfounded, but the panel lapped it up like nectar. Misora didn’t have a choice but to sit quietly and listen to him speak, reassured that she was not going to lose her job only due to the astonishingly glowing reference that L had sent for her; brief as it was.

_Naomi Misora is a talented and reliable agent with uncommon strength and intelligence. You would be fools to fire her. L._

She couldn’t understand why she was being disciplined at all, if she were to be honest. She was an agent, and even if she was off duty she was licenced to carry her firearm. The lone gunman had shot more than a dozen people, and he had been quite ready to shoot more until she shot him. Yes, the shot had been intended to disable him rather than kill him, but it had caught the femoral artery and he had lost too much blood to survive the wound. Still, that was a risk that had to be taken. If she hadn’t taken the shot more people would be dead.

She wasn’t given any chance to speak during this hearing, didn’t have the chance to plead her own case. She had to sit and hear what the others said about her and she couldn’t do anything to stop the feeling of impending doom as the panel looked more and more doubtful.

It was ridiculous, that they would listen to what these fools said rather than looking at the evidence, at the results of the cases she had been allocated in the months since her last period away from the job. She had a higher solve rate than any other agent, and of those solve rates, the highest convictions too. She was good at her job, she followed the rules, and what did she get for it? She was seen as a pushover and a scapegoat, still, just because she was female.

The panel might have done more than suspend her had it not been for L’s letter, but she was going to have a month of paid holiday, and she was at least looking forward to having some time to herself away from the buffoons at work.

She would not be able to go on her weekly visit to Beyond Birthday whilst suspended, the FBI approval not granted for her to continue after the panel had questioned whether this was a part of the cause for her supposedly poor performance. She was startled, when Tuesday came around and she was sat at home sipping a cup of tea with Raye, who had taken a week of leave to support her through this “difficult time” to realise that she missed him.

Not that she missed the visit, but actually missed _him,_ his teasing and taunts and flattery and flirting. She wondered when she had started to actually like his creepy overfamiliar behaviour and to appreciate his no doubt false appreciation of her and her abilities.

“We should go out somewhere,” she suggested to Raye after she failed to distract herself with a book she had been trying to read between cases for weeks, the plot suddenly dull and the answer to the mystery it wrote obvious.

“We don’t really have enough time if we’re having roast for dinner,” Raye didn’t look up from his book. Misora noticed his feet were up on the coffee table and resolved not to scold him for it since it would just upset him. “Besides, it’s raining out.”

Misora sighed, resigned to another day of boredom and cooking. On her way to the kitchen to start preparing their meal she noticed that her computer was turned on. She hadn’t done this, and so she checked it right away, recalling too well the last time her computer was turned on without her doing; like the last time, there was a message for her.

It was L, a single question; why was she not at the prison that day? She typed back about her suspension, the FBI not permitting her to go back to take cases to Beyond.

He messaged back immediately to remind her that she was not only working for the FBI, but for him, and that he expected her to continue her duty the next morning at the usual time. The computer went blank.

“What are you doing?” Raye glanced over her shoulder at the now blank computer screen. “I thought you were going to make dinner?”

“I will,” she agreed. “I just thought…”

“You were looking at cases, weren’t you?” he scolded. “You’re suspended, you’re not meant to be doing that.”

“I know, it’s just…”

“You know, Naomi, this is the second time you’ve been suspended in a year.”

“Thank you for reminding me,” she scowled.

“I was wondering… do you think maybe it’s a sign? A chance to call it a day with the case work? It’s dangerous, especially for a woman. We could settle down, start a family…”

“Don’t be silly, Raye,” she laughed, “this is just a temporary blip, there’s no way I’m ready to retire just yet.”

“Are you sure?” he questioned. “I know you want to start a family someday, and you never know what could happen in the field. Maybe it’s about time we started to think about that future?”

Misora knew Raye thought he was being sweet, talking of children and their life together, knew that he didn’t mean to aggravate her as much as he did. He had a point about her being suspended twice, there was a risk that she would fall victim to a third event that would end her career dishonourably rather than on her own terms, but she would not even consider retiring just yet. If she had needed anything more to keep her going than her own stubborn will, L’s letter at the hearing and her meetings with Beyond were reason enough not to doubt.

“I’m not ready to give it up yet, Raye,” she half-pleaded.

“I know,” he sighed heavily, wrapping her in his arms. “But I worry about you, and I wish you would.”

“I’ll think about it,” she allowed patiently, hugging him back. “Raye?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve been asked to go visit the prison tomorrow,” she told him. There would be no point trying to deceive when she was going to have to make up some reason to leave him at home otherwise.

“But you’re suspended?”

“I know,” she shrugged. “This is considered so important that they’re sending me anyway though. We know Ryuzaki will only speak to me.”

The FBI had tried, had sent other agents to him and he had chewed them up and spat them out, shaken but due to the restraints at least uninjured.

“I don’t like that,” Raye frowned. “He’s an absolute freak, and he’s dangerous. This willingness to talk to you seems perverted.”

“It’s fine, Raye,” she assured him. “He’s not so awful, not with me.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” her boyfriend did not appear reassured. “Why would he be so open with you unless he was getting something out of it?”

“He’s just lonely,” she assured him. “He doesn’t have anyone else.”

“He doesn’t have you,” Raye pointed out. “You’re not getting attached to him, are you?”

“Not at all,” she laughed, but she thought back to this morning, when she had been missing her meeting with Beyond, and her happiness when she had read L’s message and been told she would meet with Beyond again tomorrow. Perhaps she was a little too fond of the freak. He wasn’t really just a killer to her any more, he was a friend – a strange one, but then when had Beyond ever not been strange?

“Maybe we should ask for you to be taken off his case,” Raye suggested. “He’d surely find another agent he could target with his messed-up games, if you weren’t stuck seeing him every week.”

“It would be a waste,” she tried not to sound too pressured about it, trying to sound like it was unimportant to her, “to break the rapport I’ve built with him over all these months. It wasn’t easy.”

“I suppose,” he sighed. “But if he’s causing you any bother at all…”

“I’ll let you know,” she smiled reassuringly. “Now, how about you let me go so I can make dinner?”

* * *

 

Naomi Misora had become something of a fixture at the prison, and though the security checks still had to be thorough the time they took these days was much shorter than when she had started. It was easier still that Raye had laid out her clothes for the day that morning, a summer dress that was thin enough that the pat down from the security agents could be rather cursory and still find anything. He had also handed her a large coat as she left, the dress clearly intended for his eyes only. She wondered, briefly, what he would think if he knew she had removed the coat in the car and was visiting Beyond in just the dress. It wasn’t as if she had any concerns about Beyond seeing her in the form fitting clothing. She had no doubt he would be just as inappropriate as ever no matter what she was wearing.

“You’re late,” Beyond scowled at her as she entered their usual room. “By a whole day.”

“I hope they haven’t kept you chained to the table all that time,” she grinned, slipping into her chair. It felt strange to be there out of uniform, and without being weighed down by files.

“Didn’t bring me through here at all,” he checked his long fingernails, caked with dirt. “Wouldn’t tell me where you were. Had to make the guard bleed at dinner, before they said it had been pushed back a day.”

“Beyond,” Misora scolded, scandalised. “What did you do?”

“Ah, it was just a scratch,” he dismissed casually. “He only bled a little.”

“And what if they had decided to stop our visits, if that was how you react to one being postponed?”

“They won’t,” he was confident. “No uniform today?”

“No,” she waited for the lewd comment but it didn’t come.

“I didn’t think you liked dresses?” he questioned instead, sitting back and looking over the outfit disdainfully.

“I don’t really,” she agreed. “Raye picked it out for me.”

“Ah yes, the douchebag,” Beyond’s tone changed, dangerous and angry. “Why do you listen to him again?”

“He’s my boyfriend,” she reminded. “And I love him.”

“Yeah, yeah, you love him, he loves you, you’re _happy_ together,” he scornfully jested. “He’s not right for you, chipmunk. You deserve someone better.”

“This is the point where you start hopelessly flirting again?” Misora raised an eyebrow, expectant.

“No,” Beyond surprised her. “I’m being serious. You should leave him. He takes advantage of you.”

“It’s not taking advantage…”

“It is,” he argued, “he tells you to jump and you ask how high. You know, just because you're a sub doesn’t mean you have to submit in every aspect of your life. It’s fun in the bedroom and all but…”

“Excuse me,” she interrupted, glaring, “just who the hell do you think you are, calling me a sub?”

“Well I presume there must be some reason you put up with the douchebag,” it seemed strange, to see Beyond being so serious. “He's not a very good top though. If he was he'd see that you're not meant to be tied down… outside the bedroom, of course.”

He waggled his thin eyebrows, and suddenly Misora was reassured and comfortable with him once more.

“Thanks.”

“You're welcome,” he shrugged.

“Still, not all of us can refuse to submit - even to a traffic light, Beyond,” she argued. “The world would be chaos.”

“I like chaos,” he reminded, a little smirk curling his lips.

“I noticed.”

“Still, I told you before, you should try it some time.”

“I'd rather keep my life thanks,” she laughed.

“Live a little, pudding,” his tone was pure sin.

“That’s enough about me,” she brought them back to the purpose of these meetings, though she had no file to ask his opinion on. This would be a Beyond session, learning something new about him. There was one topic that stood out, given all their relationship talk. “What about you? You claim to be an aggressive top, and pansexual, so I’m presuming you’ve had some sort of relationship in the past?”

“Do I seem the relationship type?” he laughed. “One-night things, blossom, that’s all.”

“And then they run away screaming?” she teased.

“Ah, no, the screaming comes earlier,” he waggled eyebrows. “No, I generally can’t put up with them longer than one night, two if they’re a truly extraordinary fuck.”

“But there must be someone you care about,” she suggested. “You had friends?”

“A few,” he shifted in his chair, surprising her. He almost looked uncomfortable. He hadn’t seemed uncomfortable before.

“Anyone particularly close?”

“I…” he hesitated. “Have you at least brought me some jam?”

Misora reached in to her bag and drew out a plastic container filled with homemade strawberry jam; she had been bored yesterday and decided to make a batch. She hadn’t admitted to Raye who she had in mind when she made it. She slid the container over the white line on the table, less careful nowadays about her hand crossing the painted barrier onto his side. Beyond waited patiently for her to draw her hand back before he took the container and scooped some out on his fingers.

“This is new,” he studied the sticky substance on his fingers.

“I made it myself,” she admitted.

“Ah, gumdrop, I didn’t know you cared,” he teased, carefully licking a little of the jam off his fingers with his extraordinarily long tongue. She realised that she was waiting with bated breath for his opinion; he was, after all, something of a jam connoisseur. “Not bad.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, I suppose you’ve earned it,” he sighed after drinking almost half the jam in one go. He wouldn’t be allowed to take the container out of the room with him and their time was nearly done. “I’ve had one very good friend, before I came to prison of course.”

Suggesting that he considered her to be a friend, but Misora did not comment or interrupt.

“We grew up at the orphanage together. He was called A,” Beyond grimaced, “he killed himself.”

“Oh,” she gasped, not sure what she had expected. “I’m so sorry…”

“Why, it’s not your fault?” he looked genuinely confused. “It’s a big part of why I wanted to take on L. He was part of the reason A did what he did; A was meant to be training to be the next L, too, but it wasn’t him, he didn’t enjoy it and he couldn’t stand the pressure.”

“You really must hate L,” she considered.

“I don’t,” Beyond frowned. “It wasn’t his fault, either. L was our target, our goal, but he wasn’t the one teaching us, forcing us… I wanted to be better than L, for both our sakes.”

“For A,” she expanded. “So if you don’t hate L…?”

“Ah,” Beyond held up a jam covered finger, scolding. “Don’t push your luck toots, L’s a big topic, that’s worth at _least_ another pot of jam.”

“Then, would you tell me any more about this orphanage?”

“It was in England.”

“I knew it,” Misora grinned, mentally giving herself a pat on the back for choosing Beyond’s real accent from the several he used over time.

“I went there when I was three,” he allowed. “And I left when I was sixteen.”

“How old are you now?” she asked, realising she had never known. Beyond looked like a very young man, but his age was very difficult to place even before his burns.

“Twenty-one,” he told her without argument. “I was twenty, when we first met.”

“Happy belated birthday. When was it?”

“Thanks,” he shrugged. “As a general rule we count the Thirteenth of April as the date.”

“Thirteen – four,” she noted, smiling a little. “Of course, it would be.”

“Time’s almost up,” he reminded, glancing at the clock. “Can I just say, before you go, how lovely you look in that dress?”

“Thanks, I guess,” she shifted a little, awkward. If he had been lewd about it rather than looking so genuine it would have been far easier. As it was it unsettled her greatly. Beyond seemed to pick up on this, his grin becoming wider.

“You’d look even lovelier out of it,” he leered, and she was grateful that he was back to being his normal self.

“In your dreams,” she rolled her eyes, smiling.

“Oh, I hope so,” he laughed.

“Have a good week, Beyond,” she got to her feet, unconsciously smoothing the dress down. “Try not to attack any more of the guards, won’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he leaned towards his hands so that he could salute her as she left.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misora deals with the fall out from her suspension. Beyond is a terrible influence as usual

Misora was reeling. How dare he?

She had gone back to work that Monday, walking in to the office in her uniform expecting some sort of backlash from her colleagues of course, from her boss definitely, but Raye? How fucking dare he?

She had gone to her desk, collecting the files stacked there, the cases that she had been working before she went on her unwilling leave, flicking through them. Several had been solved in her absence, the ones that remained re-distributed to other agents as the lead but still she should have been involved in the investigation.

However, it seemed that she had been removed from all of them.

“What’s going on?” she asked the man who sat at the desk nearest her, showing him the files.

“You were under a lot of pressure,” he looked sheepish. “The boss thought it might be best to minimise your caseload for a while.”

“To zero?”

“Technically one,” he suggested. “No one else can take the Ryuzaki questioning.”

“So, I have no field work at all?” she was horrified. “None?”

“I’m sure it won’t be for very long,” her colleague reassured her. “Just until you’re back on your feet.”

“I was never off my feet,” she huffed. “Whose idea was this anyway? The boss wouldn’t have the guts…”

“Well, you… uh…” he hesitated, “you might want to speak to Raye about that?”

“Raye?”

“Yeah…” he sighed. “Naomi, I like you, so I’ll level with you, but you can’t tell anyone I told you, alright? Raye went to the boss after you were suspended, told him how stressed you’ve been, all these dangerous cases when you’re trying to have a baby and all, the boss promised he’d make sure you were safe since you were trying, you know.”

“That was generous of him,” Misora agreed, internalising her anger. “I guess I’ll have to talk to the boss then, make sure he knows I’m still happy to go on cases.”

“Yeah but is that a good idea?” he looked sceptical. “I mean, if you go get pregnant you’ll just have to drop the cases again anyway.”

Internally, Misora was screaming. She wasn’t trying to get pregnant, she wasn’t even thinking about it yet. Why would Raye do something like this? She knew he wanted kids, but there was no way she was interested until she was a married woman and she had told him less than a month ago that she had no interest in giving up her job yet.

She had to give him the benefit of the doubt. Surely, he meant well, and he probably spoke to the boss before she had told him she wasn’t ready to pack in just yet. He probably thought he was helping at the time and just hadn’t had the chance to correct his mistake before now.

“So, what am I meant to be doing?” she wondered, looking at her empty desk. “Getting coffee?”

“Well, you could take a look at this case I’m working on,” he held out a file. “I’ve been thinking about passing it on for the freak’s opinion anyway, but you might be able to have a look first?”

“Don’t call him that,” she scolded before she had a chance to bite her tongue, wincing a little at the automatic defence.

“Really?” her co-worker laughed. “Doll, I’ve seen the photos, he’s a freak.”

“Don’t call me doll,” she scowled, snatching the file out of his hand and taking it back to her otherwise empty desk.

She turned the pages slowly, reading the same lines over and over but not really taking them in. What was Raye thinking? More importantly, what could she do about it?

She couldn’t talk to him. It would only cause an argument, and that would get her nowhere. No, she had to deal with this herself, like everything else.

Perhaps her boss would be reasonable, would give her cases if she just told him she wasn’t trying for a kid? It made her bitter to think she would have to reveal anything of her personal life to that slimy worm, but then if it would get her back on active duty she would have to do it. On the other hand, there was no guarantee that would get him to give her cases. He would probably expect something in return, perhaps he would even be inappropriate about it.

The thought disgusted her. He was so awful, she wouldn’t be able to even tolerate it if he suggested anything to her, and she would alienate him more. She wouldn’t get any of her cases back, ever, that way.

If only Raye hadn’t stuck his nose in where it didn’t belong. She could almost put up with him taking the lead at home, even if some of his decisions were completely stupid. Maybe there was just a little truth in Beyond’s suggestion that she was a submissive, not that she had ever let Raye do anything weird with her in the bedroom, but she did always seem to be the one who backed down and obeyed when necessary in and out of the bedroom. It had been the normal for her for so long that she didn’t even think about it anymore.

But not at work. Her work was her life, and she would play by the rules but she would not be restricted like this, tied to a desk job almost as literally as if she were bound with ropes or chains.

Maybe she could contact L, get him to send another letter?

No. That was a pathetic idea. She couldn’t rely on L to bail her out all the time. Even if she did, he would quickly lose his patience with her. No doubt it would already be wearing thin with her second suspension, the second time he had to vouch for her competence.

Not for the first time she wondered what he thought of her interactions with Beyond, the friendship they were forming despite how inappropriate that was. She thought that if he cared about inappropriateness of their interactions he would have stopped them some time ago, but did he judge her for not only tolerating Beyond’s inappropriate flirting but using it to further their rapport and get more information? Did he judge her for having made so little progress on learning facts in so long of a time?

From what she knew of L, he would be extremely frustrated by the lack of results. A part of the problem was simple, she didn’t know what lines of enquiry she was expected to pursue. Though, she was quite sure that L was not interested in Beyond’s sexual preferences. What bearing would that have on a case?

She made her list; facts and maybes. She was more confident now in her ability to detect honesty in her investigation subject, and so the facts column was easier to populate than before.

Facts; _\- Beyond was an orphan, in England, from at least the age of three. He was raised in the same orphanage as L, and he had a friend he called A. His friend killed himself. They were being trained to be detectives like L. - Beyond Birthday is an alias. So is Rue Ryuzaki._

Useful information, all of it, but Misora thought L probably knew all of that anyway before she elicited that from Beyond in her questioning.

_\- Beyond is bored between my visits, and I amuse him. He teases me and tests me because he seems to enjoy conflict, or at least annoying me. He is a genius, and better at detective work than any of the agents at the FBI. Despite himself, sometimes he helps solve cases even when I haven’t brought him anything in return. He enjoys it, but he has no sense of morality when murder is involved. He does seem to feel very strongly about sexual crimes. ?has he ever once asked for jam to solve a rape case (check notes)._

Misora thought about it carefully. Generally she kept jam or, as she had discovered he enjoyed also, honey in her bag for a reward, but he didn’t always ask for it. She usually gave it to him anyway if he was helpful, so he didn’t always need to. But he always seemed to answer more questions about sexual crime cases than he did about any others, telling her everything rather than just giving her some leads for the investigation to follow. Now that she thought about it, it didn’t surprise her. There was no part of her that had ever thought he was the type of person who would rape.

_\- Beyond is apparently pansexual, and he calls himself an ‘aggressive top’ and he is a terrible flirt, completely inappropriate, but he can control it when he needs to and he can actually be quite sweet when he wants to be._

Misora stared at what she had written there, reading it over again as if her hand had been writing of its own accord, betraying her. She scratched out the last part of the sentence, the pen scribbling until it was entirely illegible.

Maybe:

Misora didn’t have so much to write here, though she had dozens of questions. She listed instead what she recalled from her previous list.

_\- Beyond is not unhappy to have survived_

_\- Burned dick?_

She giggled at the last one, that she had resolved to add after that second meeting all those months ago. _That_ was one that she thought would be better to remain on the maybe pile – lord knows she didn’t want to ask him that question. Since it was Beyond, he would probably insist on answering with a practical demonstration.

“Agent Misora?” her boss interrupted from over her shoulder. She quickly shuffled her sheet of paper under the file, terrified about how much he had seen. Her cheeks flushed, bright red.

“Yes, Sir?”

“You shouldn’t be looking at files in your condition,” he scolded. “Take that to Ryuzaki tomorrow. I’ve got a different task for you.”

“Of course, Sir,” she breathed a sigh of relief. Surely if he had seen her list he would have at least commented on it. She slid it sneakily into her pocket as she set the file aside, following him through to one of the evidence rooms where he set her a long, boring paperwork task. She took it on without complaint; it would give her plenty of time to think about how she was going to address this problem about not being allowed to do her job.

* * *

 

She met her boyfriend at their favourite tapas restaurant, the table filled with the little bowls of different delights that she sampled and he devoured hungrily, tired and needing sustenance after a day of chasing criminals.

“Raye?” she broached cautiously.

“Yes, Naomi?”

“Did you ask my boss to keep me out of cases?”

“… yes,” he admitted, reluctant. “I thought it might be for the best, just for a little while. Even though you didn’t need to be suspended, you did have to shoot a guy. That takes its toll.”

“He needed to be shot,” she reminded him. “I’m not upset about it.”

“You’re still numb to it,” he suggested.

“Raye,” she interrupted. “Did you or did you not tell him we were trying to have a baby?”

“Oh, Naomi, don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, offering an olive on his fork to her lips. She pushed it away firmly.

“So why does he - and the entire office – think we are?”

“I don’t know how these silly rumours get started,” he laughed. “Honestly, listen to yourself. Why would I tell him that?”

“Maybe because you want it to be true?” she narrowed her eyes, trying to keep her tone civil. “You keep telling me to pack in, Raye. You can’t just undermine me like this and expect me to come crawling to you and beg for a baby.”

“You know I don’t expect you to _beg_ for anything…” he began, but the comment was far too close to being sexually suggestive for Misora’s already fraying temper. She jolted her hand forwards, holding her white wine, and it poured all down his shirt. For a moment she wished she had chosen a red. “What the hell, Naomi?”

“Raye,” she began, voice quiet and tone dangerous. “Tomorrow, you’re going to go to the boss, and you’re going to fix this. You’re going to get him to give me my cases back, or we’re through.”

“You can’t be serious,” he scoffed. “We’ve been together for years, Naomi, you’re being ridiculous…”

“You’ll do it, you’ll promise me you will or we might as well end this right here, right now.”

“You wouldn’t leave me,” Raye sounded a little wary. “You wouldn’t throw all these years together down the drain like that…”

“Watch me,” she snarled. “What’s it going to be?”

“… No,” he challenged, glaring back at her. “I’ve been very patient with you, Naomi, I’ve waited years for you to be ready. I am. I’ve been ready for two years, to have kids, start a family, have a life together. We can’t have kids while you’re still an agent, you know that.”

“I do,” she agreed. “But we both have to be ready before we can have kids, Raye. We’re not even engaged…”

“Fuck, is that what this is about?” Raye dropped out of his chair, onto one knee, and rooted round in his pocket. “I was going to give you this when you packed in at the FBI, I was waiting for you, you ridiculous woman!”

“Raye,” Misora was practically shaking with anger as all eyes in the restaurant turned to their table with a chorus of ooh’s and ah’s. “Get up.”

“No!” he finally found the ring box, offering it out to her. “Marry me, Naomi.”

“Raye, don’t do this now,” she reached out and shut the ring box, ignoring the white gold engagement band with its surprisingly understated diamonds. She was surprised he had actually bought her something that might suit her style rather than the garish object she was expecting him to reveal.

“I mean it,” he warned.

“You want an answer, right now?”

“Yes,” he demanded.

“Fine,” she sat back in her chair. “Then, it has to be no.”

“No?” he looked incredulous.

“No,” she restated. “Will you get up from the floor now?

He did, standing. “Have I been wasting my time for years, Naomi?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I don’t think so, Raye, but you need to fix your mess first. Go to my boss, go to the directors if you have to, and fix the problem _you_ caused. Show me that you love me no matter what path I choose and then ask me again.”

He opened his mouth, as if to say more, but closed it again with a deep breath and a nod. He took his jacket from the back of his chair, putting it on.

“I’ll think about it,” he told her. “When you’re ready to apologise for your terrible behaviour tonight, call me.”

Misora gawped at him as he turned and left.

What on earth did he think she had to apologise for?

She closed her eyes, counting slowly to ten to calm herself, and asked the waiter for the bill, paying it on her credit card without checking the amount. It wouldn’t be much anyway; Raye never did like eating out at expensive restaurants when a cheaper one was nearly as good.

He had at least left her the car, though she thought that was more to do with her having the keys in her coat pocket and he wouldn’t want to come back to get them once he had put on his performance of storming out. She was glad they each still lived in their own homes, though they usually spent most of the time living together now. She could be sure he wouldn’t be there when she got back. Not unless he was really stupid, anyway.

She pulled away, her foot perhaps a little heavy on the gas as she drove along the inner-city route, letting the top down on her convertible so that she could cool off in the night air. Even though it was dark, the temperature was still in the mid-twenties, so it wasn’t all that effective, but at least with the wind in her hair she could forget the world around her and pretend that nothing was wrong.

Maybe Beyond was right. She had spent far too much time submitting, doing whatever people expected of her, especially Raye. It felt good, to argue her case, to fight for what she wanted for a change.

Even if it meant that she and Raye broke up.

Of course, she hoped that wouldn’t happen. She hoped that Raye would come to his senses, would go fix the mess he had made and apologise to her.

She already knew that he wouldn’t.

In front the traffic light was changing, the junction completely clear ahead. Misora's foot hovered over the brake pedal but didn’t push.

It was silly.

It was petty.

It was childish.

But she was _so done_ with submitting.

Even to a traffic light.

She shifted gear and her foot hit the gas just after the light changed red.

"Fuck you!" She yelled for the hell of it though there was no one around to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm not clear on where the line crosses from M to E, but regardless, the bit I'm writing now is definitely E so I've upped the rating in advance.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misora falls down the rabbit hole... now let's see how far this thing goes

“Good morning, Beyond,” she greeted cheerily the next day, presenting him immediately with the case file and a container of her homemade jam. Beyond took the file first, flicking through slowly as he looked at her over the pages, his gaze suspicious and questioning. She waited patiently for him to be done with the file, not speaking. For as long as the file was open and she held her tongue their clock was stopped.

“You’re in a strange mood this morning,” he noted, raising a thin eyebrow. She wondered how much he could see, how much he could read from her. She was sure he could read her like a book, see that her insides were a confused mess, as if someone had stirred a pot of happy and anxious and just a smattering of masked distress. “Has something happened, bumblebee?”

Misora remained silent, nodding pointedly at the case, and he redoubled his efforts to go through the remaining pages.

He slid the file back across the white line, picking up the jam.

“Sorry, munchkin, can’t help you with this one, none of the ones they’ve marked as a suspect actually committed the crimes. They need to go back to the drawing board.”

“That’s still helpful,” she agreed, putting the file back into her bag.

“Now are you going to tell me what has you all worked up?”

“Can you not guess?”

“They haven’t suspended you again?” he joked, grinning.

“I’ve only been back a day,” she reminded him with a laugh.

“It’s possible to achieve many things in a day,” Beyond suggested. “Wouldn’t even take an hour to blow up the office, for example, or kill that slimy twerp you call boss, or make a thousand photocopies of your pretty ass, or…”

“Beyond,” she interrupted, “I don’t want to know what you’d do on your first day at work. This _is_ me we’re talking about. Although, if you’d rather talk about you, that would probably be better. That’s what we’re meant to be doing after all.”

“Don’t be boring,” Beyond denied. “Come on, what did you do?”

“It wasn’t work,” she admitted.

“Ooh, so, something at home,” he tapped his chin with one long finger, thinking. “Did you finally poison the douchebag?”

“Murder is not the solution to all of life’s problems,” she scolded, rolling her eyes.

“Yes, it is,” Beyond huffed. “Murder or sex. Please, please, don’t tell me you tried some weird sexual thing with the douchebag. I really don’t want to hear it… well, I suppose if you keep his name out of it, I could picture someone else…”

“I don’t even want to know what sexual things you of all people would consider weird,” she thought aloud. “And no. Kind of the opposite, actually.”

“Back to murder.”

“No,” she laughed. “No, we kind of… broke up.”

“And you’re happy about this?”

“Yeah,” she hesitated. “Sort of. I mean, it wasn’t working…”

“Then congratulations are in order,” he beamed at her, lifting the jam container as if for a toast. “To newfound freedom!”

“To freedom,” she agreed, though she had nothing to toast with. “Also…”

“Yes?”

“I may have run a red light.”

“Oh my goodness!” Beyond laid a hand over his heart, gawping theatrically. “Misora, you rebel!”

“It felt good,” she admitted. “Really good, actually.”

“You know,” he considered, tilting his head to an unnatural angle. “That’s a little bit sad.”

“What do you mean?” she scowled, deflating.

“Well, all you did was run a red light, and you’re so excited about it,” he looked concerned. “You really never had a rebellious phase? Even a little one? Dyed your hair rainbow colours, went goth for a year, maybe sucked cocks in a bar in Magaluf?”

“Beyond!” she wasn’t at all surprised that he said all three with the same degree of seriousness and weight, as if dying her hair and sucking cocks in public were just as valid and only as rebellious as each other.

“Not even a little one?”

“Meaning a little rebellious phase, or a little cock?” Misora teased back for the hell of it.

“Either.”

“The only little cock I’ve sucked is Raye’s,” she grinned, doubly so when Beyond made fake vomiting gestures.

“Wait,” he looked startled. “The only one?”

“I’m not discussing my sexual history with you,” she recoiled quickly.

“Aww, I told you mine,” Beyond crossed his arms, fully pouting. He unclipped the lid from the jar of jam, sliding it back across the white line. “Why don’t we play a game, then? Truth or dare. Since you won’t answer that question, you’ll have to have a dare. Take a bit, with your fingers, I dare you.”

Misora frowned at him.

“No.”

“Live a little,” he taunted.

“I’m not eating jam off my fingers,” she refused.

“I won’t answer any more of your questions until you do it,” he waved the container in front of her again, insistent.

Misora sighed, taking a little of the jam with the tips of her second and third fingers. Beyond leered at her as she licked it off – better than sticking her fingers into her mouth and sucking, but still suggestive. She regretted it quickly as he practically panted at her.

“Didn’t dare you to lick it off,” he pointed out, sitting back in his chair. She tried not to look, really she did, but catching sight of his tented prison issue trousers out of the corner of her eye she was utterly mortified.

It _had_ been well over a year since his burns. It seemed she would have to scratch that off her maybe list.

“Creep,” she snapped, shoving the jam back across to him. He giggled, upending it over his mouth so that he could drink the whole container full in one go.

“My turn,” he suggested.

“I can hardly dare you to do anything whilst you’re in prison,” she pointed out.

“Oh, there are plenty of things you could dare me to do,” he winked at her suggestively.

“No, I’m asking you a truth,” she told him firmly. He shrugged, waiting. What would L want to know? She could hardly guess, but… “Where did you go, between leaving the orphanage at 16 and murdering people at 20?”

“All over the world,” he grinned. “But that’s not what you want to know, is it? You should have asked what I was doing?”

“Then I’ll ask that,” she corrected.

“I shouldn’t tell,” he frowned. “You wasted your question… but, it _was_ good jam.”

“Thank you,” she was truly flattered, to have her jam complimented by a jam connoisseur like him.

“When I left the orphanage, I was meant to start investigating cases, like L,” he told her. “But it was difficult. Not to solve them of course, but to get them in the first place. L has an assistant, he’s called Watari who finds the cases for him and is the face he shows to the public. I was on my own. And I’m not exactly the picture of mental stability – I wasn’t exactly detective-like even then. I suppose it didn’t help that I was 16 either.”

“They sent a kid to go it alone?”

“Of course they did,” he chuckled. “But then, none of us were normal kids really. Anyway, L being in the world meant that there wasn’t really room for another world’s greatest detective, and any cases that I would take L was chosen in preference. I gave up after a few years, but I still wanted to prove that I could be better than L. I tried, in several ways that aren’t worth mentioning, and then I realised what I would have to do.”

“That’s when you planned the LABB murders?”

“Yes,” he agreed. “The case that L would never be able to solve.”

“Except he did solve it,” she reminded.

“No,” he smiled sweetly. “You did.”

“Why did you…”

“Ah,” he interrupted. “No more questions today. Time’s almost up.”

“Alright,” she allowed, taking the empty jam container and putting it back in her bag.

“Misora?” he was grinning broadly at her as she straightened, and she wondered what terrible thing he was planning to make him look quite so happy.

“Yes?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Ha ha,” she raised an eyebrow.

“I’m fucking serious,” he deadpanned. She blinked at him. “Go home and fuck yourself. You’ve earned it.”

“Beyond!”

“No, listen,” he leaned forwards over the table, lifting from the chair to get as close to her as possible but still not leering at her. “I'm not asking you to do anything unusual. I mean you don’t have to film it for me or anything. Well, unless you want to.”

She was almost relieved to see him waggle his eyebrows in that creepy, suggestive way. “Don’t do it for me, because I told you to, do it for you. You're far better for yourself than Raye ever was. You deserve your reward.”

Misora stared at him, wide eyed but for some reason arguments failing her. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Go home, put on some of your favourite music - something he wouldn’t have listened to preferably, light some candles, make yourself comfortable and fuck yourself.”

Misora tried not to gawp, leaning away.

“You’re a freak, Beyond.”

“Yes. I know.”

* * *

 

Misora sat on her own in her home, a glass of wine in hand, unable to get Beyond’s parting words out of her mind.

She wasn’t going to do it. There was no way. Absolutely not. Even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t, not now that Beyond had told her to. He was a creep, and he would delight in it if she did follow his instruction, not to mention how bizarre it would be. Besides all that, it would be hugely unprofessional to masturbate because Beyond had told her to.

And she absolutely, definitely was not wet.

There was no way that she had been aroused by Beyond’s instructions, none at all. There had to be another reason why she had walked around all day over sensitised and flushed, and it had nothing to do with the words that went around and round in her thoughts.

As she sat there with her third glass of wine, however, she wondered. If she had intended to pleasure herself that evening, would it be letting him win if she didn’t do it now? She wouldn’t let him win. So, if she wanted to please herself, why should she let Beyond stop her?

She was laid out on the bed before she had really made her decision, before her fingers strayed down and began to stroke, a feather touch across undeniably dripping wet and sensitised folds. She pictured her favourite impossible crush, a movie star she would probably never even meet and who she thought was married regardless. Imagined them touching her, filling her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear.

But it was no good. No matter how hard she tried to stop it, her thoughts strayed again and again. No matter how much she focused on the pretty face of her movie star, it was Beyond’s teasing that fell from his lips, his voice that made her gasp and moan, pushed her towards the edge and crashing over it.

She came with his name on her lips, biting her tongue to stop it finding voice.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Misora is the bad influence, complete with a lot of projection and wishful thinking. Also, L ships this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick update, but it's Friday night and I'm bored and I'm already onto chapter 18 of this in writing (so much for short story huh?) and I just kind of want to post this one, because I'm sat eating scones and jam and Beyond would be proud with the amount of mess I've accidentally made with this strawberry gloop.

This was getting dangerous.

Misora reconsidered; this had always been dangerous. No, this was past that now. This was just plain insanity.

The guilt followed her through the week and into the weekend, the horror at her actions after her most recent meeting with Beyond.

He was freak. A complete and utter freak, and a murderer. She couldn’t forget that. He killed three people, brutally and extravagantly, all because he held a grudge of some form against a fourth. He wasn’t a good person. And hell, he wasn’t even attractive. He looked like something straight from a horror movie, all burns and scars and creepy smiles.

Not to mention her visits to him were meant to be professional. He wasn’t a friend, and he definitely wasn’t someone she should have any sort of feeling for.

She had been unprofessional from the beginning in her interactions with Beyond. She had to be; it was the only way she had any hope of getting him to answer her questions. But she was well over a year on, and what did she have to show for it? True he had helped the FBI solve dozens of cases, but her original task had been to interrogate him, to find out more about the LABB killer, and she had failed in that miserably. She still knew very little, considering the amount of time she spent with him.

So why hadn’t L pulled her from the case?

He was very patient, and she supposed that Beyond was a prisoner, a captive audience. She supposed that he was able to wait as long as he needed to find out what he wanted to know, but if he could only give her some guidance on what he wanted her to find out she could have directed her questioning a long time ago, traded the important information for the jam she took Beyond intermittently, and she would be able to stop visiting him.

She had to find a way to stop visiting him; how could she continue, how could she even face him again, after what she had done?

How on earth had he managed to get to her that way? Over a year of sexual innuendo should have disturbed her, not aroused her. However, though she denied it, she knew why.

Beyond respected her. It seemed a ridiculous thing to think, considering. However, no matter how much he teased and taunted, no matter how many times he came on to her or was sexually explicit with her, he drew a line when things became serious. He never hesitated to tell her exactly what he thought honestly and bluntly, and that included about her relationship with Raye. He flattered her abilities as an Agent, but never in a way that made it seem like he was exaggerating or joking, and when he did become serious he was insightful and helpful. When he was being serious, he never asked anything of her that she couldn’t give, that she was unwilling to give.

Until that last meeting. Except, she had been willing, hadn’t she?

She had to admit, it had felt a hell of a lot better than just running a red light.

* * *

 

Misora had a plan.

She needed to find out more about Beyond, needed to get as much information as she could.

It was inappropriate, and childish, and therefore exactly the sort of thing she thought he would go for.

“I have another game for you,” Misora offered at their next meeting once Beyond had assessed the case file and given her his tips for the day. She set a large number of small shot-glass sized pots of jam right on the white line, stopping him when he reached for one. “Never have I ever?”

“Ooh, I like this one,” he grinned. “Better with body shots, though, if you’d just lay down on the table…”

“You’re wasting time,” she stopped him. She had given this a lot of thought between visits, and concluded that whilst his proposed game of truth or dare would have potential to reveal a lot of information that he wouldn’t give her before, the risk if she refused to tell him something would be far too extreme – what would he dare her, and if she didn’t follow through, what would he do because he was angry? She wouldn’t put it past him to take out his anger on the guards, perhaps even attacking them. With this game, she would have to reveal a lot more about herself potentially, but she was sure most of his questions would be sexual in nature, and she could cope with that. “Are you up for it?”

“Yes,” he frowned. “But you’re not going to drink much, goody two shoes.”

“I might surprise you,” she suggested.

“You’ve never had a rebel phase,” he challenged.

“True,” she agreed. “But who said all the questions had to be rude things?”

“Ah, you’re using this to gain information?”

“Of course,” she glanced at one of L’s cameras pointedly, and Beyond rolled his eyes.

“Fine.”

“I’ll start,” she suggested. “I have never flown in a helicopter.”

Beyond took a shot of jam and downed it, dropping the plastic with a wide-eyed horror. Misora burst out laughing as he grabbed the table, his hands shaking.

“What have you done?” he cried out, disgusted. “The jam, my poor jam…”

“Did I forget to mention?” she teased, a little vindictive delight surging through her. Revenge for having tempted her last visit. “It’s also Russian roulette. Some of the jam’s the usual strawberry, some of it has naga ghost chilli through it.”

“But the jam…” he had tears in his eyes, though she wasn’t sure if that was out of genuine distress for his favourite treat or just because of the heat from the chilli. “You’re a cruel woman, Misora.”

“No pet names today?”

“Not when you’re being evil,” Beyond huffed, finally managing to pull himself together from the chilli. She was admittedly a little impressed; he had coped very well with the extremely spicy surprise, considering.

“Your turn.”

“Never have I ever flirted my way out of a speeding ticket,” he suggested, and Misora scowled at him but took a jam shot; a safe one, fortunately. “Bad girl.”

“I don’t believe you haven’t,” she challenged.

“That’s not to say I haven’t tried,” Beyond winked at her. “But I don’t have your pretty face, cookie. Or your lovely tits.”

“Never have I ever slept on the street,” she tried, and was unsurprised but a little concerned to see him take a shot.

“Only for a case,” he reassured her. “May not be able to flirt my way out of a speeding ticket but I can at least get myself into a bed in someone’s hotel room when I need to. Never have I ever got a tattoo.”

“Sorry, no to that one,” Misora smiled sweetly.

“I should have known,” he looked disappointed, and she figured he had wanted to ask her to show him it if she had one.

“Never have I ever broken a bone,” she tried. Beyond hesitated on the way to taking a shot.

“Mine or someone else’s?” he questioned. Misora groaned.

“Only you would have to ask that,” she laughed. “Yours, I mean.”

“Ah,” he drew his hand away from the jam. “I see.”

“Never have I ever had sex in public.”

“Wow,” Misora burst out laughing. “That escalated quickly.”

“Your answer, Misora?” Beyond leaned forwards, expectant.

“It’s a no,” she tried to stop laughing, but it was hard, especially when he looked so terribly disappointed. “Oh come on, of course it’s a no! Never have I ever been slapped in the face because of something I’ve said.”

“Damn you, woman,” Beyond took another shot, but it was a chilli one, and he grimaced as he drank it down but to his credit he drank every drop. At her look, he raised a thin eyebrow. “Spitters are quitters, princess.”

“And… you made it disgusting again,” she snorted. “It’s your turn.”

“Never have I ever cross dressed,” he suggested. “And by the way, I’m counting that leather motorcycle ensemble of yours. With the helmet on it’s impossible to tell.”

“I have boobs, Beyond,” she pointed out sternly, then crossed her arms over them to stop him using it as an excuse to stare at them.

“Yes you do, fine ones at that, but take the jam,” he flicked a shot at her, which she caught before it could topple on to her clothing. She sniffed it suspiciously, downing it in one and forcing herself to swallow as she realised that it was indeed one of the chilli shots. Beyond looked impressed.

“Good, I didn’t think you were a quitter,” he leered, and she slammed the container down on the table, glaring at him.

“Never have I ever been handcuffed to a bed,” Misora countered, and Beyond took a shot but looked at her with a very sad expression, as if he felt sorry for her.

“Really? Never?”

“Nope,” she grinned.

“Angel, you haven’t lived,” he continued to look sympathetic even as he took the jam shot and picked up another. “Never have I ever owned sex toys.”

He took his shot, but his sympathetic look deepened as she didn’t take one.

“Fuck’s sake, Misora, do I have to send you away with homework?”

“Never have I ever,” she interrupted, “had a threesome.”

Beyond took a jam shot, firing back, “Never have I ever been submissive in bed.”

“We know that one,” Misora took a shot, considering it with a frown and then drinking it. She hesitated. Would he answer…? “Never have I ever had a crush on L.”

Beyond didn’t hesitate, taking a shot and downing it. He did so whilst looking fully into one of the cameras and winking, and Misora couldn’t help but laugh until he spoke, raising the stakes.

“Never have I ever been aroused by thoughts of someone in this room,” he challenged, downing a shot. Misora stared at him.

Fuck. She couldn’t take a shot. She didn’t even care about whether Beyond knew. The problem was that if she took a shot, L would know. He had been extremely patient with her, he had allowed her to do things in very strange ways, and in fairness she had achieved some great results. She was sure if he questioned her on it she could make a fairly convincing argument about how she only drank because it would draw him deeper into her web of lies and manipulation to get him to talk, but L was a genius, and she was sure she would fail if she tried to fool him. She could just not take the shot, but then B would definitely know, because she had now hesitated too long before giving her answer…

The camera on the wall made a small noise as it moved, focusing in on her face.

“Fuck,” she breathed, glancing up at the camera and through it to L. There was no point trying to lie about this. Apologetically she shrugged, and took the shot whilst B bounced up and down in his seat, cackling maniacally.

The camera waited until she had downed the chilli shot – Beyond’s words _spitters are quitters_ repeating in her head as she forced herself to swallow, not sure why she cared. It panned away, zooming out so that it was watching both of them again.

“Well, Misora,” Beyond leaned in, literally purring like a cat. “Maybe I should be giving you homework after all?”

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” she spouted their habitual insult before she could stop herself, but ended up with her head in her hands at Beyond’s delighted expression.

“I intend to,” he told her, and she groaned. “Buy yourself something, treasure. Something to make yourself feel _good_.”

“Stop it, Beyond,” she scolded. “I’m not buying a sex toy…”

“Who said anything about a sex toy?” he tilted his head to his shoulder, teeth bared. “Something to make you feel good could be anything.”

“Like a whole tub of ice cream?”

“If you like,” he looked serious for a moment. “You’re always working. Relax a little, poppet, you need it. And calm down about all this, L’s not going to pull you from the case.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” she wondered, curious for his insight.

“Little known fact about L,” Beyond smiled, but it wasn’t his usual creepy grin; this was a little bit fond, a little affectionate. “He’s a bit of a pervert, honestly. He’s always watching… everyone. He’ll be having a field day with all this.”

“Still, it was extremely unprofessional of me, and it won’t happen again,” Misora resolved, glancing to the camera.

“And playing drinking games with me is professional?”

“With jam,” she reminded. “It’s not like I brought you vodka.”

“Good, I prefer absinthe,” he grinned. “Come on, Misora, I’m not asking much am I? Just buy yourself a present. Do it for you, if I could, but...”

Beyond rattled the handcuff chains, emphasising his captivity.

“… will you tell me another secret about yourself next time if I do?”

“If you tell me about your present,” he offered genuinely.

“Deal,” she agreed, glancing at the clock and pausing, surprised. Thirteen minutes had passed since she entered the room.

“I told you,” Beyond laughed. “L doesn’t mind at all.”

* * *

 

Misora couldn’t understand why this was so difficult.

She had been shopping all morning, spending time with her only two female friends and having a laugh. They had dragged her through the whole mall and they had to go back to the car twice to drop off the bags they had filled with their purchases so that they could carry more, and she still hadn’t bought herself anything.

It was as if the next thing she bought herself was the present Beyond wanted her to buy herself.

She should have just stuck with the ice cream.

She was overly critical of everything she looked at, selecting clothing and housewares and decorative objects, beautiful shoes and makeup and flicking through books. All of them were put back on the rack, all of them discarded.

They were too simple, too cheap, too neat, too normal. They were things she would buy for herself, and this was not just a gift to herself.

He had said he would buy her a gift, if he could, and even though she was buying this for herself and she told herself repeatedly that she shouldn’t be worrying about this, shouldn’t waste so much time thinking about Beyond, she was pressed to find the perfect gift. What would he buy her, if he could?

It was madness. He had infected her with his particular brand of crazy, she was sure of it. But she couldn’t dismiss it.

She was good humoured as her friends, who had their high earning husbands’ credit cards and dragged her through to the designer stores, navigating her through rail on rail of clothing she could never sensibly afford, but that she assessed with a critical eye anyway.

She only had two days before she had to go see Beyond, and he would be expecting her to have bought something. He had promised her a secret, but there was no way he would tell her anything unless she had found a gift, and since she had resolved that she wasn’t going to just buy anything, she needed to find something soon.

“Hey, Naomi,” one of her friends called her across, holding up two dresses. Both of them likely had price tags in the thousands and looked like unique pieces. “Which one would suit me best?”

“The blue one,” Naomi suggested. Her friend wore a lot of blue because it suited her.

“Are you sure?” she fussed over the dress. “It has a sweetheart neckline, though, you know they make my shoulders look funny and…”

Naomi droned out the fashion spiel that spilled out quicker than she could follow anyway, looking around herself at the rails and pausing.

Was that…?

She took out the item, the deep red leather matt and smooth, and so soft and supple under her fingers, the softest leather she had ever laid hands on. Cut to one side so that the zip ran to the right not the centre and accessorised with additional zips, the design was cut perfectly to flatter a figure, and the whole effect was a perfect balance between feminine and powerful.

It was gorgeous, and it was definitely going to be more expensive than any item of clothing she had ever bought. She probably couldn’t even afford it.

“Ooh,” her friend looked excited as she broke out of her long ramble. “That’s absolutely _you_ , oh Naomi try it on, let me see!”

“I can’t afford it,” she smiled apologetically. “I’d best not.”

“It’s fine, you can borrow the money for a bit, try it on.”

Misora didn’t like owing anyone anything, but this offer was very difficult to resist. She couldn’t help but think, if Beyond were picking something out for her, this is exactly what he had chosen. He seemed to understand her frighteningly well, and he had told her she should get herself something that would make her feel good.

This would definitely do that. She carefully slid the jacket off the hanger, checking all the measurements, and having discovered it was her perfect sizing on all aspects – almost as if it had been made for her – she carefully put it on.

“Oh my goodness, Jenny, Jenny come look at Naomi,” her first friend called to her second, who came over from the personal shopper section to gush over how she looked. Misora was blushing as brightly as the jacket by the time they were done, and doubly so when she had to forcefully dismiss the thought that Beyond would definitely like her in this.

“How much is it?” she asked them, not sure where to look.

“Who cares, you’re getting it,” Jenny laughed. When Naomi stared her down, she sighed. “I’ll go find out for you.”

“Thanks,” she carefully removed the jacket, reading the sheet of paper she found in the pocket. Lambskin, specialist leather cleaner only, a long spiel about how long it took to hand stitch and about how the leather had been prepared. Jenny came back and told her the price and she was quite sure that she went as white as a sheet.

She told herself to put the jacket back and leave it, told herself that she shouldn’t, but she ended up checking her bank balance on her phone. She had enough in her account, but not by much, and she wouldn’t be able to save anything this month or buy anything else until pay day. Still, it wouldn’t be too much of a hardship to do that – her car was topped up with fuel, and she had enough shopping in the house to get by till then.

“Alright,” she agreed to her friend’s pressure to buy the jacket. “But you’re going to have to buy dinner.”

A message pinged through on her phone as she walked away from the till, her new lambskin leather jacket carefully wrapped in a box. She glanced at the withheld number and opened the message, telling her to check her bank.

Shit, had she been hacked? She should never trust phone internet to check her online banking, but that would have to be an expert job. Still, the damage would already be done… she logged in and stared.

Her bank balance had trebled.

The money for the jacket hadn’t come out yet, but exactly twice its price had been transferred into her account, marked with a single letter L.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beyond has Misora hooked, line and sinker. Now for the killer blow...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pause here. Have you read chapter 7? I updated an extra chapter yesterday because I felt like it. This was out of the regular sequence, so I'm still putting this one up today. If you haven't read C7, go back there first. Now, onwards.

Misora never agonised over her appearance, preferring to be confident but comfortable. It was embarrassing that she had spent half an hour in front of the mirror that morning agonising over the best trousers and blouse to go with her new jacket, the first time she would be wearing it out of the house.

To visit Beyond.

Shit, she had to be losing it.

“Looking good, Agent,” the guard greeted her with a wink, and she affixed him with a glare that had him avoiding her eyes. “Sorry, sorry…”

“After last time…” she began to ask but the look the guard shot her said enough. “Of course he did.”

He had said that he would, after all. At least the thought of Beyond wanking over her still disgusted her. Maybe she still had at least one sane brain cell remaining.

“It was the first time for ages,” the guard continued to her great regret. “Almost thought he’d given up with that, then out of nowhere…”

Not out of nowhere, given the circumstances, but of course there was no way Misora was going to tell him that. Still she was surprised to learn that it wasn’t Beyond’s normal routine. She hadn’t wanted to think about it, but if he had a functioning cock she had been convinced he would have been taking advantage of his alone time after their meetings, given his usual behaviour.

With a heavy sigh and a shake of her head, she ended the guard’s explanation and entered the meeting room, reminding herself to be prepared for any response.

Beyond assessed her quietly from his chair, hands together in front of him as he took in her outfit and the jacket.

“Let me see,” he demanded. She frowned at him.

“Can’t you see from there?”

“Let me touch, then,” he corrected, holding his hands out to the white line, palms up. Misora glared at the offending appendages, checking them for jam as she slowly, reluctantly, peeled the perfectly fitted jacket away and placing it into his hands. After all, it was his gift to her. She was sure he had somehow convinced L to pay for it, too, so that she couldn’t refuse.

“It’s my colour,” Beyond noted, his eyes running critically over the jacket. “This must have cost a fortune.”

“It did,” she admitted, taking her seat opposite him.

“Not a tub of ice cream, huh?” he grinned at her.

“I know you convinced L to pay for it,” she told him, wanting an explanation, but he just scowled at her, confused.

“No,” he denied. “I didn’t. Did L pay?”

“… yes,” she glanced to the camera. “And some.”

“Bastard,” Beyond laughed. “I told you he wouldn’t mind.”

“You mean he’s actually encouraging this?”

“I think so,” he giggled. “Told you he’s a pervert, too.”

“You did,” Misora agreed, taking the jacket back when he held it out to her and shrugging it back on.

“You probably don’t need to worry so much about getting information from me, either,” he suggested. “You’ve got your reason why L wasn’t giving you questions to ask. That was never the point of these meetings.”

“He wanted to give you chance to flirt with me?” she laughed. The thought was ridiculous.

“He wanted me to have company,” he corrected. “And maybe my second friend.”

“You consider me a friend?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh I won’t,” she agreed. “It’s only, friends don’t normally wank over their friends when they leave.”

“Two-way street, twinkles,” he giggled.

“We’re not friends, Beyond.”

“Then what would you call us?” he asked, tipping his head sideways.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Misora considered. “A rebound flirtation?”

“Ouch,” he looked hurt. “All this time and that’s all you’ll give me? You’re crueller than I thought.”

“You promised me a secret,” Misora changed the subject before he could dig the hole they were burying themselves in any deeper. She really didn’t want to know where that rabbit hole led.

“I did,” he sighed. “But you have a case file, and we’re running out of time. Pass it over, let’s do the boring bit first.”

Somewhat astonished, she did as he requested, leaving the jam she had brought with her in her bag. He read the file silently, then handed it back.

“It’s definitely the husband, but they’ll struggle to get any evidence, he’s good at this, he’s killed before,” Beyond advised. “The best way to catch him would be to match him to one of his earlier murders, when he was sloppy and made mistakes. Get DNA, fingerprints, anything you can and give it a go.”

“Thanks,” Misora bagged the file, lingering over the jam but not giving it to him then either. “Now, a secret?”

“Will you put it in your report?”

“Is it relevant information for the FBI?” she checked.

“Yes, it would be,” he admitted. “But it would mean a lot to me if you didn’t.”

“I… suppose,” she allowed, surprised. “If it doesn’t impact the safety of you or anyone else, I could be convinced to omit it.”

“Convinced?”

“Stop wanking over me,” she demanded.

“Ah. You’ll have to put it in the report, then,” he didn’t even hesitate, a complete turn around from the almost pleading request before. “Wanking’s all I’ve got in here, cupcake, unless you’d rather I just sit in my cell with a hard on all day after your visits?”

Misora opened her mouth to argue, but her mind was blank, betraying her. She shuddered at the image of him sat in his cell like that which sprang to her mind, chasing away all other thoughts. She nearly gagged, tasting a little vomit rising in her throat, and cursed that her body seemed to have other ideas to her mind as she had to press her thighs together to relieve some sudden oversensitivity between her legs.

“Maybe I would,” she heard herself teasing.

“Ah, pumpkin, you don’t get to command me,” he glared. “Never been submissive, remember?”

“Well, maybe you should try it sometime,” she taunted, leaning forwards so that she was conscious that she was showing cleavage. “You might like it.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, lips parted as he panted. Misora reached into her bag and pulled out the container of jam, opening the lid without offering it to him and dipping one finger in. His eyes were wide as she brought it to her lips and sucked the jam away. “Do that again.”

“You won’t wank over me again?”

“You’re asking too much,” he pleaded, looking almost desperate.

“Not this week, then, one whole week Beyond.”

“… you’re going to be the death of me, woman,” he growled. “Fine. Deal.”

She dipped her fingers into the jam, three of them instead of one, and inserted all of them into her mouth at once, keeping eye contact with him throughout and taking special care to remove every drop of jam from them with her tongue.

“You still owe me a secret,” she reminded him as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to adjust himself where his hard cock tented his prison trousers. She pushed the jam container across the white line where it remained on his side of the table, untouched.

“I do,” he agreed. His words were slightly stilted and strained. “It won’t go in the report?”

“No,” she approved.

“Bailey Blackwood.”

“That’s your secret?”

“Look it up,” Beyond suggested.

“I will,” she memorised the name in her mind. “Who is it?”

“Me.”

She stilled, her jaw dropping.

“Well, it was me. That’s what the birth certificate would say. It’s not my name now,” he explained. “Please, keep this between the three of us. Until now, even L didn’t know that.”

It was a stark reminder to hear him refer to their interaction as the three of them, reminding her of L watching through the cameras.

“Just us,” she agreed. “This is big, Beyond.”

“Yes,” he agreed.

“Worth more than a jacket.”

“Well, maybe not more than _that_ jacket,” he grinned. “Expensive taste, my lady.”

“Be serious,” she scolded.

“I am, two grand for a jacket?”

“I never told you how much it cost…”

“I get bored in prison, L sends all sorts of magazines, I’ve seen it on the cover of something or other,” he shrugged off.

“You’re a fashionista?” she couldn’t imagine it, Beyond sat in his cell pouring intently over fashion magazines.

“I’m bored,” he denied.

“Still, your name?”

“My name,” he nodded.

“Are you trying to make me owe you?”

“No,” he sighed. “No, Misora… I just…”

He was flustered. More flustered than when she’d been sucking the jam off her fingers. She waited impatiently.

“… I wanted you to know it.”

She blinked at him, astonished.

“Names… they make us vulnerable,” he shifted. “It’s dangerous for me, to give you my name. I don’t even go by it anymore. Beyond Birthday’s the name I’ve chosen, the name I see in the mirror.”

“Then why does it matter if I know it or not?” she wondered aloud.

“You really don’t want to know,” he stalled her, concerned.

“I’m fairly sure I do,” she pressed.

“I…” he took a deep breath, “I don’t think you’d ever risk moaning ‘Beyond’ when you come, but Bailey… no one would know. Even if somehow someone overheard you – I know you’re worried about that, even when you’re at home - it would be our little secret.”

Misora fell silent. She knew she should deny him, should tell him that she wouldn’t be doing that again, wouldn’t think of him when she came. He was a freak, she reminded herself, a grotesque freak both inside and out.

She couldn’t bring herself to deny it, couldn’t lie when she was conscious of how damp she felt between her thighs.

She was very glad to be saved by the latch of the door behind her, the guard coming in.

“You haven’t eaten the jam,” he pointed out, a little confused, to Beyond. The prisoner’s hand lingered on the container, hesitating to give it back.

“Can I keep it?” he asked Misora, who looked to the guard in turn for guidance.

“You’re not allowed any potentially dangerous loose objects in your cell,” the guard reminded him. “That plastic could be snapped and used as a sharp…”

He tailed off, and Misora had the impression he was hearing something in his earpiece.

“… okay,” he finally spoke again. “You have special permission just this once, but if you abuse it you’ll have your visits taken away for a month.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Beyond snatched up the container of jam, cradling it between his palms. Misora slid the lid over the white line as well for him before she gathered up her bag to leave. She paused near the door, turning back to him.

“So,” she couldn’t believe she was asking this. especially in front of the guard, but she couldn’t resist. “You never did tell me what you think?”

She gestured to the jacket and the rest of her ensemble.

“Perfection, darling,” Beyond purred, smiling as sweetly as he could manage.

* * *

 

Misora was inpatient all day at work, her jacket neatly folded back into its box in the boot of her car and exchanged for her normal black one, to finish her ridiculous paperwork tasks and head home.

She had his name. His real, actual name. Perhaps all she would need to do would be type it in to a search engine and it would bring up everything about his past before he was orphaned. Perhaps there were secrets right there to be found, if only she could look. But she couldn’t search it on an FBI computer. They were monitored, and if anyone was curious and looked it up themselves it could be disastrous for her, now that she hadn’t put it in her report.

Besides, it was none of their business. Beyond helped with their cases; that was enough. The rest, everything else, that was just between her, Beyond and L.

Their curious but, it seemed, supportive third wheel.

She wondered if Beyond was right, if L really had intended for her to be a companion to him. She could see some logical reasoning in why she might be chosen; she was in personality and character quite the opposite of him. She might have been able to be a calming influence. Maybe she had been, a little. But she had been equally, if not more affected.

And he was in prison, on a life sentence without parole. Why on earth would L bother to try to tame him? What benefit would it give?

L had to care about Beyond. It was the only logical reason why he would send her to him, give him this companionship. Perhaps he had another reason – he was L after all, she couldn’t figure how his mind would work – but she didn’t know it.

At home she typed the name into the computer, Bailey Blackwood.

There were dozens of old news articles, pages and pages of results, and she clicked on the top result with some excitement.

Her heart sank.

It made the news only because of some distant relation to one of the members of the House of Lords. Such a stupid thing, such an everyday disaster. A lorry had hit a bridge, and the car behind had swerved to try to stop itself hitting the lorry.

It had left the road, flipped over the barrier and rolled its way down the steep slope. The ambulance and fire service were there within minutes, but they couldn’t get down, even with the helicopter. It took over an hour to get the right equipment there, for there to be people who were trained to abseil down and rescue any survivors.

They brought up two bodies, and a silent toddler.

Naomi printed the photo of the tiny little Bailey Blackwood, cuddled in to an ambulance paramedic’s chest, thumb in his mouth and clutching a piece of paper in his tiny fist.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misora acquires some new toys - with a lot of horsepower (ooh shiny motorbike)

Naomi Misora zipped up her black leather jacket, fastened her long boots and walked straight past her car to her new toy.

When, she wondered, did she become so reckless?

The motorcycle was beautiful, pitch black and shining, all flowing lines and roaring engine and exactly the kind of thing she thought Beyond would completely approve of.

He wouldn’t approve of the helmet she fastened securely on her head, but she didn’t do this for Beyond. She didn’t do this for anyone but herself.

She revved the motorcycle, delighting in the growl, and pulled away between the traffic. It was Tuesday, and she had questions for him.

What was the piece of paper he held in his hand, the one thing he had insisted on taking from the car when his parents had died?

What happened to him, between then and going to the orphanage? There was at least a year between the two if the ages were accurate.

Had he touched himself since their last visit?

She cursed herself that the latter seemed to be the most important question.

“Your hair’s flat,” Beyond greeted her as she entered the meeting room, and she laughed, trying to fix it with her fingers as she sat down.

“Helmet hair,” she told him. “That extra money L gave me topped up the amount I needed. I’d been saving for a new car.”

“You don’t need a helmet in a car,” Beyond scowled.

“That’s because I bought a bike instead,” she grinned.

“Rebel,” he praised, “you’re making good progress.”

“I have questions,” she told him, laying out another tub of jam for him which he didn’t take, watching her expectantly. After a long moment she moved it so that it was bisected by the white line and dipped a finger into her side, watching as he did the same and they both tasted it together.

“This is a different batch,” he noted immediately.

“Good?”

“Very good,” he approved. “You changed the recipe?”

“Only a little,” she took a little more jam. “I looked you up.”

“I thought you might.”

“You had a piece of paper, when they pulled you out of the car,” she didn’t bother to sympathise with him, he would think it pointless so long afterwards and she didn’t think he would take it all that well anyway.

“I did,” he agreed. “You want to know what it was?”

“Yes, if you know,” she sucked the jam from her finger, silencing him momentarily.

“… it was a letter to my rescuers, from my mother,” he told her. “She knew she was going to die, so she wrote it.”

“Whilst she was in the car?”

“That morning,” he corrected.

“Then how did she know she would die?”

“I told her,” Beyond glanced above her head, but not in the correct direction for the clock.

“You told her?” she frowned. “How would you know?”

“I always know,” he shrugged. “Names and lifespans. I see them. Don’t tell me I’m psychotic, I’ve been assessed many times and that’s not part of my spectrum.”

“But you believe it?”

“It’s the truth, though I don’t expect you to believe me. All I need is a face and then I know the name and lifespan; a simple sum gives me date of death, too. Don’t worry, angel cake, you’re free to be reckless for a while yet,” he assured.

“I believe that you believe it,” Misora allowed. “What did she write?”

“I couldn’t read words at that age, only lifespans,” he looked sad. “And the police took the letter when they were investigating if it was a suicide.”

“Ah,” she understood. “What happened, after that?”

“They kept me in a foster home for a while, but they couldn’t handle me,” Beyond looked proud of that. “Then the man who ran the orphanage took me in, and you know… most of the rest.”

“I do,” she allowed.

“You kept my name out of the report?” he asked her warily.

“I did,” she tugged the jam back to her side of the table as he reached for some. “You kept your promise too?”

“I’m sorry, what promise was that again?” he tapped the table, pretending to think.

“The one where you’re hard and desperate but not allowed to pleasure yourself,” she challenged boldly, mouth thankfully racing ahead of her mind so that she didn’t hesitate, which was definitely what he wanted to make her uncomfortable.

“Cruel woman,” he scolded. “I did. Now can I at least have jam or are you going to deny me everything I like?”

She pushed the jam back within his reach with a smile.

“How did it feel, submitting?”

“Bloody awful,” he complained, then sighed. “Arousing as fuck.”

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to do another week?” she challenged.

“Not bloody likely, witch,” he glared. “Pretty sure it’ll just fucking drop off if I don’t do something about it soon.”

“Fine,” she found herself agreeing before she could think about it too much. He raised a thin eyebrow, tugging the chains that held his hands on the table.

“Can’t,” he complained, as if he had been about to wank right there in front of her. She was glad that the restraints had stopped him.

“And what about you?”

“What?” she scowled.

“I gave you my name for a reason, petal, did you use it?” he leered at her.

“…no,” she told the truth, but it had been a frighteningly close thing, resulting in a bleeding corner of her tongue where she had bitten it at the last moment.

“Pity,” he sighed. “Are you ashamed of this?”

“Yes,” she didn’t lie. “Whatever _this_ is shouldn’t be happening.”

“Rebound flirtation?” he quoted her term from their last meeting.

“You’re corrupting me, Beyond,” she told him, “from the moment I ran that first red light.”

“It definitely started before then,” he grinned.

“Perhaps,” she allowed.

“If it helps any, you’re corrupting me too,” he allowed. “I never thought I’d see the day when I denied myself pleasure, when I submitted to anyone.”

“You know, it does help a little,” she laughed, picturing him in his cell, frustrated.

“I’m glad you kept the name out of your reports,” he unexpectedly returned to after a moment of comfortable silence.

“You said it meant a lot to you.”

“Oh, it does, but it’s more than that. Have you seen the news from Japan?”

“It’s not just Japan, it’s worldwide. The deaths in prisons?” Misora had to admit that she had been watching closely, looking for a pattern. The killings hadn’t been going on for very long, so far as they could tell, but they were terrifying. It almost looked supernatural, if that were possible.

“Have you been worried about me, snowball?” he looked smug.

“A little,” she confessed.

“The killer needs a name and a face,” Beyond explained, a pattern she hadn’t yet seen. “I don’t know which of my names he would need, maybe he could use any of them. But I’m in prison under Rue Ryuzaki and the FBI files lists me as Beyond Birthday. So long as you haven’t put Bailey Blackwood into the file he can’t get that one at least.”

“You said you considered Beyond Birthday to be your real name now?”

“I’m not sure whether that makes a difference,” he allowed. “It may be that the name given at birth is the only one that matters to him. But Beyond is the name I see in the mirror.”

She didn’t question him on his likely delusional belief about names and lifespans but moved on.

“Do you have any other insights into the case?”

“None,” he looked unsettled by this. “But I think L might turn his eye to Japan soon, might go deal with it.”

“Why Japan?” she wondered. “If it’s worldwide…”

“There were a couple of suspicious deaths of some small-time criminals before the main killings started,” he told her. “They were Japanese, so it would make sense that those were the practice kills, the killer flexing his muscles and testing whatever he’s got that lets him kill from a distance.”

“If L goes there, would he still watch us every week?” she asked, glancing at the camera. Beyond laughed.

“Oh, he’d fine a way,” he assured her. “Now, time’s almost up, did you bring me a case or…”

She had almost forgotten, but she gave him the file to assess. He handed it back along with the empty jam container from the week before.

“They haven’t got enough evidence,” he told her, “but I expect they have the right woman this time.”

“They’re learning,” she joked, trading the file for a new container of jam. “Since you behaved with the last one, I wondered if L might let you keep one in your cell, for the week?”

“Dewdrop, you spoil me,” he beamed, taking the jam and cradling it close to his chest. “Could I give you some homework?”

Misora hesitated, unexpectedly being given the opportunity to refuse.

“…yes,” she allowed, mentally kicking herself for giving in to temptation.

“Buy something from a sex shop,” he challenged her. “Before you argue, it doesn’t have to be anything over the top. Just some lingerie will do, and I promise I won’t ask to see it – just a description.”

Misora bit her lip, considered, and nodded.

“Alright,” she agreed, just in time as the latch on the door clicked. The guard didn’t argue the additional tub of jam in Beyond’s hand, so likely L had already spoken to him about it.

“Have fun,” Beyond waved her away enthusiastically.

* * *

 

Misora set the bag down on her bed that night, staring at the offending brown paper that hid what her conscience told her she absolutely should not have bought.

He had challenged her to buy something, he hadn’t said that she had to use it.

That meant that if she did, it was just for her.

It was flimsy justification, but she didn’t care. He had also told her to buy something, not somethings, so the lingerie was as instructed, but the rest was her own choice, not because he instructed her.

She had never bought anything from a sex shop before, and she had been rather too embarrassed to go shopping locally, travelling out of town for her shopping. Even then she had blushed tomato red when she had placed her selected items on the counter, unable to hear out the woman who was serving as she tried to recommend other items to go with her selections.

Though she had agreed to buy them, too, if only to shut the woman up and get out of the shop more quickly.

She took a deep red lace bra and thong from the bag, studying them critically. Beyond had suggested lingerie and she had initially intended to stick with just that, finding the items to match her beautiful leather jacket. However, she had to walk through other sections of the shop to get to the till, and she had been drawn in.

She cursed herself for being tempted. She had never been like this, before Beyond.

She set the lingerie down on her dressing table, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation to wear it next Tuesday along with her matching jacket. He wouldn’t be able to see it, but she would know it was there, and even thinking about it made sensation coil in her belly.

Hence the remaining items in the bag.

She needed scissors to open the packaging of the first object, a frustration she thought must have been done to create suspense in the purchaser as by the time she had the object open and had found the triple A batteries she would need to use it that tension in her abdomen had built further. She had initially selected just this, but the woman behind the counter had recommended a small bottle of an item marked ‘pleasure gel’ and she had not argued with the suggestion.

She was not in the habit of wearing any clothing at all when she went to her bed, and although it was early she undressed and got under the covers, hoping they would muffle any noise from her new toy. Biting her lip, she stroked a single fingertip over her oversensitive folds, drawing back before brushing over her clit as she realised how ready and close she already was just with the thoughts that had been going through her mind as she prepared.

Her new toy sprang to life with a twist of the base, a little at first but as she turned the vibrations stronger and stronger. Hesitant, she turned it right down to the lowest setting, a faint but audible thrum coming from it.

She had never done this before, never used a vibrator, so she had selected a very small one, a bullet that promised big things in small packages. She had also read the instructions on the packaging before she open it – Beyond would not approve – and so she didn’t rush in, using the toy on the skin of her stomach and then her sensitive nipples first, getting used to the sensation.

When she couldn’t wait any longer, she trailed the toy down, unbidden images of Beyond following a trail of jam with his tongue, and before she allowed the toy to touch her where she needed it most she spread just a little of the pleasure gel over the tip of it.

She had always been direct with herself when she sought her orgasm this way, fingers toying with her clit unashamedly, but the first touch of the toy to the most sensitive part of herself was too much and her hips jolted upwards unbidden. Gasping, she forced herself to relax back down on to the bed, wondering if she should just turn off the toy and finish with her hand, sure that it would be a matter of moments with how ready she was feeling, but she could almost hear Beyond’s voice scolding her for giving up, and so she brought the toy back into contact with her sensitive core, running it around her clit rather than touching it directly.

Oh, and that was better, the vibrations enough but not overwhelming, and she was able to relax back into the bed, her muscles going lax as the sensations ran through her, overwhelming but in a delicious way now.

She didn’t try to resist the image her imagination supplied her, a continuation of the thought of Beyond trailing his tongue over jam on her skin down to her core, his tongue taking the place of the vibrator in her mind. She could imagine him smirking up at her when she had to pause for a moment, so very close to her orgasm but unwilling to be overwhelmed so quickly, enjoying this too much for it to be over so soon. Imagine him telling her just how rebellious she was being, teasing her about what the FBI would think if they knew she was letting him fuck her with his tongue.

The tension built again, and this time she allowed it to reach for a peak and fell crashing over it, body arching from the bed as it surged.

“Bailey…”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misora tries to keep her head; Beyond has other ideas for his

It was too warm a day to be wearing three layers of clothing, but after debating for days about just how far she was willing to fall into the quagmire that was her attraction to Beyond – despite herself and everything she usually stood for – and L’s approval of it, she had finally come to a decision.

It was quite harmless, considering that he was a prisoner and could never take action to pursue a relationship of any kind, to indulge herself from her careful distance across the table. To indulge him too, but she had decided that actually if she was going to be the only friendly face he ever saw again, perhaps he needed this. Perhaps she needed this, too.

But that was no reason to allow the prison guards to get an eyeful, hence the extra layer of clothing beneath her stunning red leather jacket. She had to keep up some appearance of professionalism for their sake and the FBI at least.

She took the car that day so that she wouldn’t flatten her hair with her motorcycle helmet, almost holding her breath as she went through the rapid routine security check that she was always subjected to in case one of the guards would find reason to suspect something was different. She had no reason to fear – even if they did, what could they say really about her clothing beneath the top layer she would surely be showing to Beyond? For all they knew she had a date after this and had put on the extra top to cover what she was wearing for later whilst she had no choice but to come for the scheduled visit even though it was her day off.

They had no way to know she was wearing this for _his_ benefit, but her guilty conscience screamed.

The security checks completed without issue, but she felt no more able to breathe freely until she was in the meeting room and it was just her, Beyond and the camera, L’s mechanical eye.

She could do without that, but by this point she had lost the will to be upset by him watching them. Beyond was right, she had concluded, L was a pervert.

“Bailey,” she greeted with a coy smile, sliding into her seat opposite him in what she hoped was a slightly more elegant way than her usual careless manner. The sunken eyes widened, and a grin spread across his burned features as he leaned in.

“Naomi,” he purred, and she gasped. He had never used her given name before, and hearing it spoken aloud by him had taken a role in several of her fantasies in the last week, when she had given up trying to resist.

“Here,” she shoved a case file in front of him, “get it out of the way.”

Scowling unhappily, Beyond sat back in his chair and began to read through the file. His attention distracted, Misora removed her jacket, carefully placing it over the back of her chair, and her fingers lingered at the bottom of her extra top, trying to summon up the courage to remove it. Beyond’s interest was captured out of the corner of his eye, and he did not turn a page for over a minute, waiting for what she was going to do.

She swallowed, and much like ripping off a band aid, she did it quickly, smoothing the top beneath self-consciously.

Translucent white satin did nothing to hide the red lace bra beneath, also baring her toned figure – more FBI than feminine, with strong abdominals that belied her narrow frame, and the curve of her hips where they disappeared beneath low sitting black leggings.

Beyond swallowed, shifting in his seat, and with some evidence of the effort it took apparent in the tension in his body, the lines of his burned face, he forced himself to finish going through the file.

He slammed it down heavily on the table, shoving it towards her with enough force that some of the looser papers scattered to the floor. Before he could speak, she held up a hand and pointed to the clock – whilst they worked on the case the clock paused, so for as long as she didn’t speak and he didn’t give the answer they were on borrowed time.

Time in which she could gather the papers from the floor, deliberately slowly and positioning herself in such ways that would give him the best view.

If she was going to chose the path of sin, she was going to do it properly, damn it.

When she straightened Beyond was openly panting, hands wrapped tightly around the chains that held him to the table, white knuckled. She took her place back in her chair, pulling it as close to the table as she could.

The way it was set up, he could not reach her over the table like this, and he could not stretch out his legs because they were shackled to the legs of the chair. But there was nothing stopping her slipping her foot out of her shoe and trailing her bare toes over his ankle beneath the cuff, jolting him as he gasped.

“Stop,” he demanded fiercely. “Don’t start what you aren’t going to finish.”

“Hmm,” she couldn’t speak and keep the clock stopped. She was seriously taking advantage of that rule, but she was convinced that L would allow it.

Her toes trailed up over his leg, curling around the inside of his knee through the prison trousers.

“Fuck,” he leaned back in the chair, canting his hips forward, not taking his eyes off her. “You’re a fucking cheat, Naomi, if I wasn’t a little tied up right now…”

She couldn’t resist, she had to speak, and they had at least nine minutes anyway, even if L decided to stop them at the normal time. She rather suspected he might just instruct the guard to wait longer anyway.

“You would try to top me,” she finished his sentence for him. “Perhaps pin me to the chair? Bind me in the cuffs instead?”

“Yes,” he leaned his head back in the chair and she could see the leaping of his pulse beneath the skin of his thin neck, racing. “There would be no ‘try’ about it.”

“Tell me,” she suggested, “What would you do?”

“Fuck,” he blinked at her. She prompted him with toes trailing up the inside of his thigh, brushing near to but not on the area he most needed her touch. “First, I would remove that sorry excuse for a shirt, so that I could trace my tongue over every inch of that caramel skin.”

That was close enough to her own fantasy that she felt her breathing becoming shallower, and she trailed fingers over her chest and toned stomach, mimicking his words. His hips canted forward, seeking friction, but she denied him that as he groaned.

“Naomi,” he complained.

“Tell me more,” she demanded.

“I… I would slip my hand beneath your leggings, but I would not touch your clit, you devious little witch,” the latter was spoken as her toes curled beneath the top of his prison trousers and managed to somehow undo the draw string tied there, letting her draw them downwards bit by bit. “I would not, not until I had you weak kneed and _begging_.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she smirked, finally managing to free his cock from his trousers. It sprang free, hard and dripping at the tip, and she had to force herself to look, suddenly having an attack of conscience.

He had been burned; scar tissue covered some of the skin, but not the sensitive head. From the way the scars lay, she half suspected that he had been uncircumcised before the fire and that had been the only thing that saved that part. His cock was vaguely glistening all over, and it took a while for her to make the connection between that and the cream he had to keep his scars moist elsewhere on his body to allow the skin to remain soft and prevent contracture. He had either taken special care of his cock or had been using that moisturiser as lubrication by the looks of things, and she would certainly be using it for that purpose now.

She tried not to allow herself to think in flattering terms, about his size (far larger than Raye, her only basis for comparison) or shape (standing proud and straight out rather than Raye’s, curled downwards when hard in a way that was in no way abnormal – she had checked online, to her shame – but not so appealing as this). She tried not to become any more aroused herself, tried to contain her own response.

There would be time for those fantasies later, Beyond’s words sure to feed hours of enjoyment with her new toy once she got home.

“Once you were begging for it,” he gasped, watching her foot now as it moved around his cock but didn’t touch, “I would taste you.”

She rewarded him, stroking her toes over his cock, the fine layer of cream making the surface feel softer than it actually was. She was immediately aware of how deep the scar tissue must go, and that though he gasped at the sight of her trying to stimulate him, with the damage present he must hardly feel her.

“Beyond,” she breathed, slightly horrified.

“No pity, Naomi, I get by,” he told her firmly, moving his hips so that the tip of her great toe was pressed to the slit at the head of his cock. “Here.”

She nodded and began to find ways to stroke and to take the head of his cock between her toes, trying to mimic her tongue or her mouth. It seemed to be effective enough, with Beyond panting and trying to hold his hips still but thrusting just a little, involuntarily.

“I wouldn’t let you keep that careful control,” Naomi told him, following on from his prior words. “You could tease me a while, but once you had your taste of me I would surprise you. I would turn you onto your back before you could stop me, Beyond, and I would impale myself on your cock.”

“Yes,” he breathed, “but I would take hold of your hips. I would set the pace, let you be on top if that is your choice, glorious angel, but I wouldn’t be able to just let you top me like that.”

“Then I would slap you,” she told him sharply, and she had thought he would like that, but the little cry that escaped him was surely loud enough to be heard by the guard and the way his hips jerked forwards made her lose her contact with his cock. “You don’t get to control me if I don’t want you to.”

“Fuck, Naomi,” he looked and sounded like he was close, and she slid off the other shoe so that she could take his cock between her feet and allow him to thrust.

“I bought myself a vibrator, Beyond, after the last time I was here,” she confessed to him. “I used it on myself eight times this week, and every time I finished with your name.”

“Fuck,” he didn’t hold back any more and he came all over her feet and ankles in gushes of white. “Bad girl, Naomi.”

“Your girl,” she smirked at him as he fell apart.

They sat together in silence for a good five minutes, Beyond recovering as Misora tried to cool her own desire. It was no easier for her as a woman to do so, but at least there were fewer visible signs, only the flushing of her skin and the rate of her breathing and her beating heart.

She had brought a small towel with her and some wet wipes, and she used them to clean herself up as well as she could, using her toes to pull his trousers back up and to wipe the floor and his chair where some of his come had escaped.

“We still have time,” he laughed when he could, glancing at the clock. It was still stopped with nine minutes to go.

“Do you remember what you were going to say about the case?” she asked him, trying to fall back into their usual routine. She placed the towel and used wipes into a bag within her bag, taking out two jam containers and offering them across, dipping a finger into one and lapping it from her skin.

“The… the taxi driver,” he told her. “Will have worked at multiple firms in the areas that the crimes occurred. He’s the killer, I’m quite convinced, but there is no proof. The FBI need to do more leg work, I’m afraid.”

“That’s fine,” she took the file back. “Raye’s getting lazy anyway, needs a good kick up the arse.”

“If you do, make sure you’re wearing stilettos,” Beyond suggested with a grin, but the creepiness of it was not up to his usual standards. “I’m surprised he’s still managing to feed himself without you around to look after him, never mind keep his job.”

“Well, half his cases have gone to shit,” she acknowledged. “He’s under observation from the higher ups, they’ve noticed his work has been shoddy these last few weeks.”

“I’m glad,” Beyond nodded. “Deserves what he gets, abusive shit.”

“He never once hit me,” she spoke in his favour.

“There are other kinds of abuse, sunflower, than a man laying a fist on a woman,” he told her firmly. “He took advantage of you, oppressed you, and he would have done worse if you hadn’t snapped out of that trance he had you in.”

“Well, at least all this talk of Raye has killed the mood,” Misora chuckled after a minute or so of complete contemplative silence. “Do you have any more secrets for me today?”

“You’ve earned them,” Beyond considered. “But I’m not sure I have anything very worthwhile to give you.”

“Tell me about your travels,” she suggested. “Something from those missing years – sixteen to twenty. I’m sure there must be some funny stories there.”

“I suppose,” he agreed, thinking. He looked at her like he was weighing her up, judging her silently. “There was this one time in Russia…”

“Go on,” she encouraged when he paused, looking at her as if still considering if she could handle it.

“Well, I’d taken an interest in a poisoning case,” he told her. “The Russian mob were involved, and I’d been trying to infiltrate for weeks, but it was tough, you know? Basically, had to kill one of their enemies to prove I was an ally.”

“Did you?”

“Well, yeah, it was easily enough done but that wasn’t the issue,” he shrugged nonchalantly, and Misora smarted at the reminder of how casually he discussed killing people. He might as well have been discussing what was on television that night for all the emotion he showed. “So there was this one guy, high ranking bastard in the mob, functioning assassin, all that shit, and I thought he was probably the one who had poisoned the guy, but I was really struggling to pin him down. Kept disappearing off for days on end, only to come back to work reenergised. Thought maybe he had a secret little family somewhere, so I started tailing him, you know, make sure I wasn’t going to be taking a redeemable man to prison.”

“You think about that kind of thing?”

“Both of us do, me and L,” Beyond told her. “Well, I suppose that’s something about L you didn’t know, huh? Not many do. Half the time when he solves cases he recruits the criminal, you know, he has quite the underground network going on.”

“So, you were wondering if you would be able to recruit him?”

“Yeah,” he continued. “So I tailed him for a week, followed him to this dark shady building, I mean, shady even for me you know? Looked like a crack den, and abandoned, but when you went inside there was this door to the basement, you see, and he went in so I followed him down.”

“Just like that?” she scolded. “You didn’t worry about your safety or anything?”

“Nah, kitten, if it’s my time it’s my time,” he laughed. “Anyway, I got downstairs and he stabbed me with this fucking huge needle. Woke up hours later all tied up, worked out he’d led me down to a sex dungeon.”

“Here I thought you’d never been submissive before?” she was surprised.

“I haven’t,” Beyond grinned. “Fucker tied me with zip ties, cut my wrists real bad getting out, and he was huge, I mean four times my weight of pure muscle easy, so it felt bloody amazing when I had him over the table begging for my cock.”

“Beyond!” she bit her lip to stop herself laughing. Alright, now she understood why he had hesitated to tell this story. Did he think he would disgust her, talking about this? Was telling her at all some sort of test of her reaction? Misora had never been homophobic, and perhaps it was simply the fact that she had this bizarre interrelationship with Beyond anyway but she found the idea of him dominating some huge mob assassin who could likely split him in two with his bare hands entirely hot.

“Anyway, long story short, this guy was running an escort business on the side,” he told her. “It was entirely based on rape fantasies, and he’d thought I was his next client, who hadn’t turned up by the way. So, I just paid the fucker and sent his business card L’s way, let him know he might be one to recruit, and got out of there.”

“You just let him get away with the poisoning?” she frowned.

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged, “but he was a fantastic fuck.”

“And do you even see why that was probably the wrong thing to do?” she asked, curious and a little judgemental.

“Nah, he’s doing great work now,” Beyond told her. “Works as an informant in the mob for L, not to mention the escort business is still going.”

She shook her head, exasperated but amused. “Well, I’m not sure I can put any of that in my FBI report for the week.”

“No, I imagine the content will be pretty limited,” he laughed. “Best put that other top on before the guard comes to get you.”

Misora glanced at the clock and realised he was right, so she corrected her clothing accordingly.

“Can I give you homework?”

“I’m not sure you need to,” Misora grinned, doing her best to imitate his most suggestive creepy look. She was quite sure she probably just looked constipated or something, but he seemed to appreciate it anyway, laughing with her.

“Alright,” he allowed. “But I expect a full description next time.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” she agreed as the guard opened the door.

“That was a long one,” the guard commented as she left. “Difficult case?”

“Oh, it was a big one, and about as hard as it gets,” she joked, winking at Beyond before the door closed.


	11. Chapter 11

She had gone too far.

So much time with Beyond had impaired her judgement. Of course, after her display last week, even L had lost his patience with her.

Still, she wished he could have just warned her or told her where the limits were. Limits that should surely have been self-evident, but even so, she would have thought after he had actively encouraged her he would give her another chance when she had admittedly overstepped the mark.

It had to be L. There was no other way that the FBI could have found out her little secret, discovered her inappropriate behaviour with Beyond Birthday and called her in to the office for a disciplinary with zero notice and stern faces glaring at her with disgust from around the table.

She had been through enough of these now to know that it wouldn’t matter what she did, said or thought. They wouldn’t listen to any argument she made. Hell, their decision as to her punishment was made before she even entered the room; the meeting was just a formality, to allow them to have a paper trail afterwards. Therefore, when she was finally given the chance to speak she didn’t bother to try to plead her case.

She could tell them that L had encouraged her to use any means necessary to get information from Beyond. That he had actively encouraged the inappropriate relationship to form. That he was at least partly to blame, even, for her current state of moral impropriety.

She didn’t bother. It wouldn’t make any difference, and she would just drag their opinion of L through the dirt with her.

“Well, am I fired then?” she asked them straight away instead.

“Fired?” the chair of the panel, who had only recently been promoted from being her usual boss, glared at her. “No, and you have L to thank for that. All these references he’s sent for you over the years.”

She noticed the two on the desk were the old ones. He hadn’t sent a third.

“I don’t think I want to know exactly what you did to get these,” he held up the original two letters, suggesting that she had traded sexual favours for them in the first place. She couldn’t care less what he thought of her anymore. He was a pathetic, weedy little man who clearly enjoyed his power too much. “But they do give you a level of protection that we cannot completely overlook, no matter how drastically, horrifically inappropriate your actions.”

“So I’m to be suspended?” she reasoned. “Again?”

“Yes.”

“How long for?”

“Officially,” the chairman hedged. “Three months.”

“Unofficially?” she challenged.

“If I were you, Agent Misora, I would start looking for other jobs,” he told her. “This is your third suspension in two years. Perhaps this job just doesn’t suit you.”

Misora unclipped her badge, running her thumb over the FBI seal. This had been her life for so long. Since she was a child she had wanted to be an FBI agent. She had pictured a life fighting crime, a life like the movies. It hadn’t lived up to her expectations, even when she was working cases.

“Sir,” she looked squarely at the chairman, setting the badge down in front of him. “I quit.”

“Misora, this is a chance to leave with dignity…” he tried to reason.

“Oh, that would be no fun,” she imitated Beyond’s creepiest grin, unnerving the chairman. “Then I wouldn’t get to say this…”

“Say what, Misora?” he asked when she let it linger.

“Go fuck yourself, Sir.”

The panel were silent, but she could see one of the women seated to her right was trying desperately not to laugh.

“Misora, get out of my office,” he ordered.

“Go fuck yourself,” she said again, “preferably somewhere no one else can see you. No need to subject anyone else to that sweaty slobbering fat mess.”

“Misora!”

“You sexist, lazy, rude bastard.”

“Do I have to call security?” he threatened, and she laughed at him.

“No, I’m about done,” she took off her regulation issue gun as well, lifting it to her mouth and licking suggestively along the barrel for the hell of it before she handed it in. “Goodbye, Sir.”

She drove through every traffic light she could get away with on her way to the prison, sure that she would still be allowed in, even though she was no longer an Agent, even though she was not meant to be visiting that day. She passed security checks, waited impatiently for them to get Beyond through to the meeting room and slammed the door behind her with some force.

There were some spots of blood on the floor and a scrape of it on the door, and she took in the redness that coated Beyond’s fingernails and ran down his arms with a certain sense of detachment.

“You attacked the guards?” she commented more than asked, pacing on her side of the room rather than sitting down.

“I didn’t know it was you,” he snapped. “Thought it was another idiot psychiatrist or journalist or assorted arseholes here to profile me… what’s wrong?”

“I’m not an Agent anymore.”

“Why?” he sounded shocked and so she was certain L hadn’t told him anything about reporting her inappropriate behaviour to the FBI.

“I quit,” she told him.

“You… quit?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” he asked, and a bark of laughter escaped her.

“They were going to suspend me again. I’d had enough.”

“What for?”

“Why do you think? They found out. About this. About what I’ve been doing with you,” she glared at him, stopping pacing and looming over him from the other side of the table.

“And they were just going to suspend you? You could have kept your job?”

“I doubt it,” she admitted.

“But there was a chance?” he frowned at her. “Naomi, I’m all for rebellion, but…”

“I told my boss to fuck himself.”

Beyond froze, jaw dropped and eyes wide.

“What?” he questioned.

“I told my boss to go and fucking fuck himself.”

“Naomi…”

Misora hesitated, the flames that blazed within cooling as she took in Beyond's shocked expression. Had she done the wrong thing? If even Beyond was so shocked... she'd really fucked up, hadn’t she? What if word got back to L... hell, word was already back to L no doubt through the cameras. Shit. What if he stopped her visits to Beyond? He must have already been thinking about it, getting her suspended from the FBI like that, but now surely she had proven that she was unstable, that the visits to Beyond were damaging her mental health and they would take even that away from her. She would have nothing left – no relationship, no job, no Beyond Birthday.

“Naomi…”

Quietly at first, then louder and louder, Beyond began a cackling, maniacal laugh, so creepy that even Misora recoiled at first.

And then, bubbling up within her until she couldn’t hold it back, Misora broke into laughter as well, laughing hysterically with him until tears streamed down her cheeks and her ribs ached.

All the agitation, all the tension left her in a rush, and she settled herself into the chair opposite him, reaching out across the table and taking Beyond’s hands. He squeezed hers reassuringly.

“Well, I bet that felt better than running a thousand traffic lights.”

“Well… I did that too,” she admitted, wiping tears away. “On the way here.”

“Naughty girl,” he teased.

“I needed to see you,” she confessed, and she didn’t care what L would think – if he was even watching her unscheduled visit. After last time, surely he would already know how she was feeling. “I couldn’t wait.”

“I’m always here if you need me,” he offered sweetly, then smirked. “Captive audience, poppet.”

“I don’t know if he’ll let me come back after this,” she explained.

“Who? L?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “No one else could have told the FBI about what was happening between us. They don’t have access to the security cameras and the guard doesn’t know.”

“L won’t stop you visiting me,” Beyond told her firmly. “If he is the one who has done this, he will have a different reason than that.”

“What reason could he have for getting me fired?”

“Technically he just got you suspended,” he corrected.

“For getting me suspended then…” Misora trailed off, coming to a realisation that was unwelcome. “The first time I was suspended he asked me to work with him on your case. You don’t think…”

“I’m afraid it’s entirely plausible,” Beyond was apologetic.

“Why couldn’t he just speak to me? I have loads of leave to use up,” she complained.

“Well, maybe he didn’t know how long it would take,” he considered. “Maybe he knows it would take longer than you had of leave.”

“Still, to do it this way?” she puzzled. “Doesn’t it seem a little over the top.”

“L’s about as melodramatic as me when he wants to be,” Beyond told her. “He likes to make grand statements, and I bet he thought it was hilarious at the time.”

“Still, if he wants me to help him now he’s got another thing coming,” she glared at the camera. “You watching L, you hear me? I’m not going to fucking help you, you utter cock.”

“Don’t call him a cock, he likes cock himself, he’ll probably take it as a compliment,” Beyond corrected her.

“Eugh,” she huffed. “You know, Beyond, sometimes I just don’t want to know these things.”

“Sorry.”

“What could be important enough to get me fired then?” she demanded.

“Well,” Beyond shrugged. “He’s working on the Kira case.”

She had been following L’s progress in the Kira case of course, and she knew that he had narrowed the suspects down to a particular region of Japan, and Raye was called over there only days ago along with eleven other agents to tail some members of the Japanese police that L found suspicious. Perhaps they weren’t good enough, and he wanted her on the job.

“Well, I’m not leaving you here to go gallivanting off around the world on L’s whim,” she told him, gripping his hands more tightly.

“Whilst I am flattered, Naomi, he would pay you very well for this, and I will still be here when you get back,” he told her. “Don’t throw this opportunity away for my sake.”

Misora reeled at the suggestion, she was so used to Raye undermining her abilities and demanding that she be at his beck and call that this seemed very out of place. Beyond valued her, she realised, perhaps more than she valued herself.

“I…” she found herself unable to meet his eye and looked instead at their joined hands. She realised absently that this was the first time they had ever touched palm to palm, and it felt strangely more intimate than their contact the week before. His thumb traced back and forth over her wrist, soothing her. She had blood stains on her now, transferred from his hands, and it felt like something symbolic.

She took her hands back from him, sudden inspiration striking, taking from her bag a pen and some paper.

“Do you write your B in a special way like L?” she asked, handing him the pen and paper. Beyond drew it out, handing them back. She put the items back into her bag.

“Is there a reason?” he asked curiously, but she was already getting to her feet to leave.

“L,” she said into the camera. “If you want to negotiate, call me tonight between six and eight.”

“Naomi,” Beyond called after her, slightly frantic. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks, please?”

She glanced back at him over her shoulder, grinning as she left.

* * *

 

Her motorcycle tore through the town as she headed home, a bandage around her left wrist. She wove between vehicles, tires screeching as she accelerated and braked sharply to make daring manoeuvres that were surely illegal or at least verging on it.

She needed to get home, she was already running late and it was nearly six and if L called now she wouldn’t be able to answer. She was certain he would call, certain that he would do so at exactly six in the evening, not waiting until eight. He would usually have left her in suspense, she knew, but she was sure that her reaction to his actions would push her to call before then.

Her bike parked just as the phone rang.

“L.”

“Misora,” she answered him, staying on the back of her motorcycle to talk.

“I believe I may have overstepped the mark today,” he told her through the voice synthesiser.

“Yeah, you think?” she laughed humourlessly. “What the fuck do you want from me, L?”

“I require your assistance on the Kira case,” he told her as she had expected, as Beyond had predicted.

“That’s going to come at one hell of a price,” she told him firmly. “And I want in writing a guarantee that you will never remove my visits to Beyond.”

“I believe we can come to an arrangement,” L sounded reasonable, but that was likely the filter. “Especially since your first task assisting in this case will be to bring Beyond to Japan.”

“Pardon?” she frowned. She hadn’t expected that.

“I would value his assistance on the case as well, and I have arranged his release into my custody tomorrow morning at eight to make the private flight to Japan by eleven,” L told her. “I would like you to escort him.”

“So, you want me to be Beyond’s keeper?” she questioned.

“I believe the usual term for someone who acts as management and guide for a secret agent of any form is handler,” L corrected. “But essentially, yes.”

“Do you understand how bad an idea that is?” she demanded. She could just picture it now, Beyond released from his chains would be all over her before she could even think the word no. They would never make it to the flight on time, and that was if he didn’t just go to the extreme of kidnapping her and running away so that he could do whatever he liked.

“I believe he will behave himself for you,” L told her carelessly. “I am afraid, Misora, that his skill set will also be invaluable in this case.”

“… fine,” she agreed. “In principle, I could… but we need to talk payment, L. You owe me. You lost me my job…”

“How about five million advance, and five million on completion of the case?” L offered without any negotiation, and Misora was momentarily silenced. “US dollars, of course.”

“Deal,” she agreed, not having expected anywhere near such an offer. “What about Beyond? Once he’s helped…”

“If he is capable of demonstrating that he can operate without requiring imprisonment, he will be allowed to continue to do so,” L described to her surprise. “His mind is wasted in a cell.”

“L?” she asked before he could hang up. “Was that your plan all along?”

“To release him into your care?” she could almost hear him smiling. “Well, I hoped.”


	12. Chapter 12

Beyond Birthday was released from his cell the next morning, escorted from the prison by four armed guards who looked really rather terrified with the idea of handing him over to a single unarmed female. Misora had braced herself for anything; he could attack her, now he was not restrained and she was the only barrier between himself and freedom, their connection forgotten, dismissed as easily as everything else was for him. She could be engulfed in a hug or a more inappropriate manner and have to fend off sexual advances right there in the middle of the prison foyer.

She had not in all honesty expected him to just walk out to her and shove his hands into the pockets of his prison issue trousers, shifting from foot to foot as if nervous.

“I’m sorry,” he started with. “I don’t mean to frighten you.”

She was surprised and hopeful that he would even consider her feelings at that moment. Honestly, after nineteen months of confinement, she was sure she wouldn’t do the same. Still, Beyond despite all his many – many – faults had proven himself to be very considerate in the past and again now.

“I’ll get used to it,” she told him, unable to deny that she was indeed nervous with the whole situation. The idea of Beyond Birthday out of his chains was not necessarily a good one for her. “We need to go, L has a flight waiting.”

“I heard,” he nodded, moving out of the square of the four guards and closer to her, stopping approximately the same distance away as their usual table was wide. Misora was aware that she had been increasingly tense as he got closer, and forced herself to relax a little, remembering her capoeira training. She should be moving if she thought she would be under attack, and she couldn’t move if she was rigid with nerves.

“Do you have anything you want to bring with you?” she checked, but he shook his head.

“I have nothing,” he told her. “Even the clothes on my back belong to the prison.”

“Of course,” she looked at them critically, and wondered how on earth she would get him through the airport in an orange two piece. She would have to get him something else to wear for the flight. L had sent her documents for Beyond, very convincing but she was sure they must be fraudulent even if they were originals forged by the government, since they had a fake name with his post-burns photograph. “Are you going to behave?”

“To the best of my ability,” he agreed, and she supposed that was all she could really ask from him.

“Come along then,” she forced herself to turn her back to him, aware that the result could be potentially disastrous, but he did not move to attack her, only followed along behind at the same distance away.

The car journey was silent and awkward, with Beyond in the back on the other side of the car. She didn’t have the heart to demand he buckle his seatbelt, recognising the small rebellion for what it was and deciding to let it slide since he was otherwise behaving himself perfectly. She was braced for the worst when she stopped at a clothing store and took him in with her to get a new outfit, attracting many strange looks from those already in the store, but he continued to behave himself and changed without complaint after she bought the change of clothing for him.

By the time they were on the plane and Beyond was still quiet and passive, she was starting to get really very concerned. Was he plotting something? Why was the usually so obnoxiously flirtatious man holding himself in such restraint?

“You’re allowed to talk to me, you know,” she sniped at him from across the jet’s passenger area, which was large and comfortable and far too excessive for two people.

“I am aware,” he spoke softly. “I am also aware that your heart is racing, and as you are showing no signs of attraction that means you are still afraid.”

“Well, it might help if you speak,” she told him. “I don’t like it when you’re quiet.”

“I’m sorry,” he frowned at the floor at his feet.

“You look better in those clothes than the prison suit,” she tried, inviting comment. His frown only grew.

“Obviously.”

“Beyond…”

“Don’t,” he sighed heavily. “Don’t try to pretend you’re okay with this. L offered you a shit load of money, didn’t he?”

He had, and that was the reason she had ultimately agreed, but still…

“I don’t expect you to act like a different person just because you’re out of the cuffs,” she told him.

“Would you like me to tell you how sexy you look in that beautiful leather jacket?” he asked dryly. “Or suggest what I would like to do with you, to you, if my hands weren’t bound? Except, they aren’t now, and there’s a very real danger that I could actually do it, so you’re afraid.”

“Tell me,” she hesitated, but she forced herself to ignore her racing heart. “What you would like to do to me first?”

“Well, for a start, I wouldn’t like to do anything _to_ you,” he told her. “ _With_ you is another matter.”

“Okay,” she tried to smile, reassuring. “Continue.”

“I would like to embrace you,” he suggested. “I’ve never had the chance, before.”

Misora nodded to him, steeling herself internally. He looked dubious despite her nod.

“You’re not comfortable,” he reminded her, as if she couldn’t decide that for herself. Immediately she felt herself agitating, his influence awakened in her the part that would not be controlled, that would decide for itself, thank you very much.

“Hug me, Beyond,” she demanded defiantly, and immediately he moved, sitting on the chair beside her and wrapping her in his arms. The way he curled up in the seat he ended up almost in her lap, his long arms around her shoulders rather than anywhere near her neck and she was conscious of this, the embrace unusual enough in its formation to emphasise that he was deliberately avoiding her neck to make sure she would not panic about being strangled.

She wrapped her own arms around him, holding him close there and trying desperately to get used to his touch.

“I made my decision before L called,” she told him in his ear, “that no matter what he offered me I would turn it down if it meant I had to give you up. When he told me you would be coming to Japan… I won’t lie to you, Beyond, I am frightened right now. But I don’t want to be.”

“I don’t want you to be frightened,” he told her. “Not like this. Flustered, yes. Angry, maybe. But frightened? Not my kink, pet.”

“Beyond,” she pushed him away, and he immediately released her, moving so that he was fully into his own chair beside her. “Can I show you something?”

A grin spread on his face, and he watched for any fear in her but she found it quite reassuring when it grew until he was leering at her. “Oh, please princess, show away.”

“Nothing like that,” she found herself laughing as he waggled his thin eyebrows. “This.”

She held out her wrist, the inside turned upwards and the sleeve pulled backwards just a couple of inches.

B.

Written in black calligraphy, perfectly drawn from his design.

“No matter what happens, you’re a huge part of my life now,” she told him honestly. “No matter what happens, I would carry you with me.”

“Naomi,” he breathed, tracing the black ink with the tip of his index finger. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“Well,” she smirked. “I wanted to, and you don’t get to stop me.”

“No, I suppose I don’t,” he allowed, and then leaned in to capture her lips in a kiss.

The gesture surprised her so much that she didn’t even react at first, but that was okay. He just pressed his lips to hers and waited, giving her time to relax and eventually flick the tip of her tongue against his lips until he parted them and allowed his own to duel hers for dominance in the kiss. True to form, he did not back down, and eventually she submitted to him in this.

“Your heart is still racing,” he told her when they drew apart. He could feel her heart beating where his hand rested below her breast.

“That’s funny,” she smiled, “I don’t feel so afraid anymore.”

He kissed her again, gently drawing her in to straddle his lap, giving her every chance to pull away if she chose to.

“You’ve given me a new fantasy,” he confessed against her lips when their kiss broke and he lifted her wrist to his lips instead, the tattoo still raw in its newness but no longer as tender. He kissed the skin, tongue flicking over it. “This hand around my cock, marked for me as it is.”

“I…” Misora stared as he traced his tongue over the letter over and over, following the lines. With the way he had drawn her into his lap she could feel how hard he was already, and she was beginning to feel flustered herself despite the nervousness she felt. “I could…”

“Naomi,” he breathed. “You don’t have to do that…”

“No,” she agreed. “But… I think I want to?”

It was a question, she was not sure herself, but Beyond was being so understanding, so careful. So not himself, and she really wanted the usual leering, joking Beyond back right now. She felt vulnerable to this tender, caring Beyond.

He released her hand, sitting back in the chair and watching her.

“You don’t _have_ to do anything,” he promised her.

She nodded, biting her lip, and moved out of his lap. The relief of the close proximity was helpful but left her on her knees at his feet, just above eye level with his erect cock, and she swallowed nervously as she reached out with both hands to free it from the confining trousers.

“Can you feel this?” she asked as she wrapped her hand around the scar tissue at the base of his cock.

“A little,” he was watching the marked wrist, evidently taking more pleasure in the sight than the sensation. “You have to press rather harder.”

She gripped more tightly, until he groaned and stopped her.

“That’s perfect,” he guided.

Like this, gripping him so firmly, she was sure that there was no way she could move her hand on his cock without hurting him even with the moisturiser that coated the scarred skin. She wouldn’t be able to please him as she had Raye, would need to be more inventive, and as her mind began to work to evaluate the challenge her worry began to ease.

She lightened her grip, stroking down to the head, tightening a little before she got there and then stroking over his slit with her thumb.

“Oh,” he gasped, watching her intently.

She removed her hand, sitting back on her haunches.

“Would you show me?” she asked him. “How you would please yourself if you were alone?”

He caught his cock in his palm, grip tight and began to stroke. She thought it must be painful, surely had to be painful, but he continued regardless, not taking his eyes off hers.

“I’m not your old beau,” he growled as he noticed her surprise. “Don’t need to treat me with kid gloves.”

“Alright,” she accepted, covering his hand with hers as he stroked. He swapped them over so that hers was on the inside, so that he could guide her and show her what he needed.

“Tell me one of your fantasies about me, sugar,” he demanded as he stroked her soft palm over his cock.

“I…” she hesitated, thinking. “Last night, I was thinking about you getting out of the cell.”

“Don’t stop,” he warned her as he guided her thumb to stroke over his slit and she felt a little fluid collected there.

“I didn’t think you were going to behave yourself so well,” she admitted. “I thought you might just do something then and there.”

“Be more specific.

“I… I pictured you breaking away from the guards, taking one of their guns,” she told him, watching her hand joined with his on his cock rather than meeting his searching eyes. “I imagined that you would threaten them with the gun, maybe hold it to my head and tell them that you would kill me if they tried to stop you, but I’d know that you wouldn’t, and I would trust you. You would push me up against the wall…”

He had released her hand and for just a moment she had stopped before taking up the same pressure and rhythm he had been using.

“You would push me up against the wall, and push up my skirt…”

“You don’t wear skirts,” he argued.

“In my fantasy I did,” she told him. “You pushed up my skirt, and I hadn’t worn any underwear. I had expected you to fuck me, wanted you to fuck me. In my fantasy I was ready for you, prepared to take you.”

“Continue,” he demanded, his hand taking control of hers again, changing her movements a little. “I’m close…”

“You held the gun to my head,” she breathed, “And then you fucked me… you slammed in to me, so hard that it hurt, and you didn’t give me any time to adjust, you pressed me against the wall and held me still and you fucked me.”

She leaned forwards, lifting her eyes to his searing gaze, and took the head of his cock into her mouth, tongue trailing over the sensitive skin.

“Spitters are quitters, Misora,” he teased as she hummed around the head of his cock, continuing to stroke. He tasted of bitter come and soap, clean a little familiar and reassuring.

She released him with a pop, licking her lips and emphasising a savouring expression. “I’m no quitter, Beyond.”

He smirked, but the look was quickly broken as she swallowed him down again, multiplying her efforts in an attempt to force him to come quickly and give him her all.

“Final warning,” he gasped, fingers running through her hair as if he wanted to grasp but did not do so.

“Hmm,” she took his cock as deeply as she could and quickly had to start swallowing as she tasted him. Not once had he moved, not once had he forced her head down onto him or thrust up into her throat to make her gag. He hadn’t shouted or done anything that would have alerted the singular elderly man who was acting as a flight attendant to their inappropriate behaviour either, managing to come almost silently with only a very slight whimper.

She went to the bathroom, tasting not only come on her lips but his skin cream and wanting to wash out her mouth, brush her teeth. By the time she returned he was tucked back into his trousers, watching her.

“Alright?” he checked, a little concerned.

“Next time you have to wash off that skin cream first,” she told him, taking the seat opposite. “It’s disgusting.”

Beyond giggled, raising an eyebrow.

“Next time?”

“Definitely,” she agreed, smiling and winking back.

“I think we need to check the rules of the mile-high club,” he told her. “Does giving oral count?”

“Surely it has to,” she grinned, trying to get a little of the come that had escaped her mouth out of the material of her top.

“Hmm, I’m not sure,” he contemplated. “What if it only counts if you’re the one receiving? Or maybe only if you orgasm?”

“One step at a time,” she demanded of him, shaking her head. “I’m not ready for that yet.”

It was one thing giving him oral sex; she was the one in control there, she was the one who set the pace. To have him please her would mean giving him a degree of control and trust she just wasn’t ready for. Still, she considered, given how afraid she had been of dealing with him without the safety of the cuffs and the barrier of the table between them, things were going very well.

“Did you bring your toy with you to Japan?” he wondered, glancing at the overhead luggage compartment.

“Never mind the vibrator…” she began but was stopped when he interrupted.

“Won’t need it now you’ve got my cock to fill you?”

“…maybe,” she agreed after a long moment of hesitation and internalised denial. “I was actually going to tell you that I’ve got the motorcycle in the hold, and L’s got it registered so we can use it in Japan.”

“We’ll never be able to go anywhere without fucking when we arrive,” Beyond warned her. “Especially if you insist on sitting in front.”

“Well I won’t be letting you drive,” she giggled. “You’ll get us killed.”

“Haven’t yet sunshine,” he grinned.

“Running red lights and failing to flirt your way out of traffic tickets?” she accused. “Nope, you’re not driving my baby.”

“Well then, you’ll just have to make it up to me,” he suggested. “I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

“How about jam?”

“Not good enough,” he denied. “Although… if you have any, I’d love some just now.”

“Post sex cravings?”

“Yep,” he grinned. “Nineteen months of classical conditioning. I can barely eat jam now without picturing you and getting hard.”

“I couldn’t bring anything home made on the plane, customs controls,” she told him. “But I’m sure I saw some on the way in.”

She pressed the button, calling the flight attendant who must have been listening in because he brought two jars of jam and curiously one spoon, handing that to Misora and leaving B without. As if he already knew their habits.

“Ah,” Beyond studied the old man suspiciously. “Long time no see, Watari.”

Misora blinked. This elderly man looked completely normal, not at all like the dark clothed shadowy figure that was known as L’s only liaison with the outside world other than a computer screen.

“Beyond,” he greeted tonelessly, turning and leaving them to their own devices. Misora watched his retreating back before looking to Beyond.

“There’s history there,” she noted. He nodded, his focus on the jar of jam, checking the seal.

“Bastard,” he muttered after a while, not trying to open the jar.

“What?” she queried, having just been lifting her first spoonful of jam to her lips. Had Watari broken the seal, put something in it?

“Superglue,” Beyond showed her where the lid of his jar had been glued on.

“Well,” she considered. “He’s locked in an airplane with you for hours, and he thinks he can prank you?”

“It does seem rather foolish,” he looked mischievously at her.

“And he messed with your _jam_ ,” she pointed out, swiping her finger through her own jar and offering it to Beyond’s lips. His tongue flicked out, tasting.

“Delicious,” he told her, catching her wrist and taking the whole finger between his lips, sucking the rest of the jam away.

“So, what are we going to do to him in return?” she asked, offering him the rest of the jar.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watari is... inconvenienced. Beyond and Misora are introduced to the taskforce.

Watari didn’t know where Beyond Birthday had been able to get the ingredients required for an exploding paint grenade at 35,000 feet, but the bright pink would not wash out of his hair and left him with pink eyebrows too, which certainly caused a few strange looks as he collected the bags for the odd couple.

Beyond and Misora had boarded the plane quietly and with a huge gulf separating them that appeared like it could not be broken, but by the time they disembarked they were laughing, joking and sniping at each other like an old married couple. For an observer like Watari, it was clear to see how manipulative Beyond had been with her, how the carefully maintained distance had served to make the stubborn Misora rise above her fear in a way that would not have been possible if he had tried to push her.

Hell, she even seemed to think it had been her idea to initiate oral sex twice more during the flight, times in which Watari had locked himself out of their area of the plane and tried noise cancelling headphones which unfortunately did not always live up to their name.

He had to leave them to their own devices where their transport was concerned. Whilst he did not like the idea of letting them out of his sight L had approved Misora to bring her motorcycle and she had managed, after a lengthy debate over whether it counted as rebellious or suicidal to not wear a motorcycle helmet and leathers, to get Beyond onto the back of the bike and drive away from the airport, leaving Watari to deal with their bags.

“Sir?” one of the airport security was carrying one of said bags over to him. “Would you come with me, please?”

Oh, damnation. What had they got in that bag?

Watari sighed heavily, rubbing his pink stained forehead where he felt a tension headache coming on, and followed the security guard.

He hoped L knew what he was letting himself in for.

* * *

 

Misora killed the throttle and skidded the motorcycle to a stop at the top of the hotel’s multi story car park, glancing round at Beyond with a satisfied smirk that was hidden by her helmet.

“So, what do you think?” she asked in Japanese, glad that Beyond seemed to be able to speak it so fluently that she would not be required to translate as well as be his babysitter.

“I think next time you should let me drive,” he demanded, removing his own protective gear. “It goes like stink but what’s the point if you stop to let every little old lady cross the road?”

“I wasn’t going to run her down,” she complained, having ignored Beyond’s urging to keep going when a nice-looking elderly lady was edging across the road ahead of them with her zimmer frame, a road she had been taking at nearly twice the speed limit at that point.

“Ah, she’d have survived, her time wasn’t up yet,” he told her casually.

“Survived but in what condition?” she argued.

“Do I look like the sort of person who cares about that?” he questioned, gesturing to his own burned body.

“No, I suppose not,” she allowed. “But I do, so you’ll just have to get used to it.”

“Or what?”

“Or I won’t have sex with you anymore,” she threatened.

“Well, if you really think so you can try,” he smirked. “But I think you might just be addicted now, pixie.”

“Shut up,” Misora couldn’t quite bring herself to deny it.

“So, how do we do this?” he questioned. “I mean, I haven’t seen L in person since I was, like, six, so I’m pretty sure it’ll be a grand reunion, but…”

“Just don’t kill or maim anyone,” she sighed, not expecting to be able to demand much else.

“Really?” he looked scandalised. “You take all the fun out of everything, baby.”

“I don’t like being called baby,” she scolded, setting off towards the elevator so that he had to chase after her when the doors opened to let them in.

“You’re acting like one,” he huffed. “Don’t kill or maim, honestly, next you’ll be asking me to cuddle kittens.”

“You’d be cute with kittens,” she considered. “They’re all scratchy and like to make people bleed, too.”

“I’m a dog person,” he argued.

“Really?” she laughed, considering. “I could picture that actually, you with a little fox terrier nipping at people’s heels all the time.”

“A fox terrier?”

“Boundless energy, scrappy, take on opponents many times their size – and win,” she described. “The wiry ones can be a bit funny looking, too.”

“We should get one,” he demanded, “I’ve never had a pet.”

“Not a chance,” she laughed. “Besides, when did this become we?”

“Don’t try to deny it,” he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in to his chest, and it was then that the elevator doors opened on the hotel lobby. He huffed as she pulled away, catching his hand and pulling him out of the lift from the car park and to the ones that led upwards in the hotel to the penthouse, where L was staying.

“So, L?” he asked her again.

“Honestly?” Misora considered. “I really don’t care how much you wind him up. I’d love to see him squirm. He got me fired after all.”

“So, as long as he doesn’t end up bleeding…”

“He’s fair game,” she agreed. “But if there are other people there do try to be at least a little bit sane.”

“Again,” he rolled his eyes. “You’re asking a lot of me.”

“And you’re going to be Ryuzaki again here,” she reminded him. “No Beyond Birthday.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “In name or in action?”

“Only in name,” she allowed. “To be honest I’d really rather you didn’t start crawling around the place.”

“But it’s so much fun,” he complained.

“You know what? You’re hardly going to make a good first impression as it is, crawl if you want,” she laughed, but didn’t offer to take the motorcycle helmet from his hand. At least that might limit him a little.

The elevator doors opened to the penthouse and the pair stepped into a long corridor. Usually Watari would be waiting but they had beaten him back, so Misora told Beyond he had to wait and went in first.

“Ah,” a wide-eyed man that looked just a little familiar looked up from a stack of milk cartons, teetering precariously on a table edge. Instinctively she tried to place him, but the memory was just not that clear. If she had seen him before he hadn’t made much of an impression. “About time too. Where’s Watari?”

“Following with the bags,” she told him, assessing him as she did. So, no doubt about it, this strange man had to be L.

He was crouched like Beyond had, when he was pretending to be Rue Ryuzaki, though she had never seen him take up that pose since. Perhaps he had been mimicking L in that way. She wondered if L also crawled when he was investigating a crime scene. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to find out. Between the baggy white top and the loose-fitting jeans, he was also dressed much as the Ryuzaki character Beyond had used had, and his hair was done in a similar way – or not done, as the case may be given its unruly nature.

“And… Ryuzaki?”

There were other people in the room, who had been watching the arrival of the new member of the team with interest but silently. Misora noticed that they looked surprised by the name.

“I had been utilising the name as an alias,” L explained to them absently, “the man who is due to arrive is the real owner of that name. From now on it would be best if you simply refer to me as Ryuga, which is another alias I have used during this case.”

“Rue’s just outside the door,” Misora told them. “He can be a little…”

“Difficult?” L smiled sweetly, childlike, and any fleeting resemblance he had to Beyond’s acting role of Ryuzaki was washed down the drain.

“That’s… perhaps an understatement,” she agreed. “He has promised not to hurt anyone?”

“That’s good then,” L nodded. “Why don’t you let him in?”

“Hold on,” one of the task force interrupted. “Who is this Ryuzaki and why do you have to make him promise not to hurt people?”

“He’s necessary for the case,” L told the young-looking officer. “However, his methods can be… eccentric at times.”

The task force all looked at each other, the words unspoken. L had to be the most eccentric person that any of them had ever met, so if Ryuzaki was considered worse than L, what exactly were they about to be faced with?

Misora didn’t wait any longer, considering that fair warning, and opened the door.

Beyond had discarded the motor cycle helmet and raced through the door straight to L, hands going to either arm of the chair and leaning in so that his nose was about an inch from L’s, leaning closer until L, in avoiding touching, was forced to fall backwards out of his crouch and press his head to the back of the chair.

“L,” Beyond’s mad grin and unblinking stare would have been enough to send most people running screaming, but L only stared back and smiled.

“Ryuzaki,” he responded.

“A little birdy told me you _need_ me,” Beyond purred.

“I require your specific abilities for the case,” L dismissed the obvious suggestive nature of the other man’s statement. Misora considered whether she should have made him promise not to come on to L, knowing that there was some sort of sexual fantasy element to Beyond’s feelings about the detective, but seeing how unsettled L was though he did try not to show it she was glad that she hadn’t stopped him. “Your unique skill set would be invaluable.”

“Ah, you just need to make sure I don’t side with Kira,” Beyond dismissed, still not moving away. “He only needs a name and a face, doesn’t he?”

“I believe so.”

“With me, he would only need a face, right?” he laughed.

“That’s not why you’re here,” L told him firmly.

“A little birdy also told me you’re paying that birdy a lot of money to be here,” he glanced at Misora. “What do I get out of it?”

“Your birdy hasn’t told you?” L questioned.

“Nope.”

“ _If_ you behave yourself,” she interrupted, finally losing patience with the men’s staring contest and pulling Beyond away by the arm out of L’s face, “you’d get to remain free.”

“Ah,” he grinned, “define behave?”

“That’s why I didn’t bother telling you,” she shrugged. “I didn’t think there’d be much chance of it actually happening.”

Beyond shook her hand off his arm and looked round at the rest of the task force, treating them to one of his most unsettling expressions, one that made him look believably like he was considering which of them to eat first for his dinner.

“Aww, L, who are your friends?” he advanced on the one who had spoken to Misora, the youngest of the group.

“The Kira taskforce,” the detective didn’t seem to change much to an untrained observer, but Misora could see the tension releasing from him.

“Matsuda,” Beyond greeted, “what do you do round here then, hmm?”

“I…” the young detective stammered, avoiding Beyond’s eye. “I… umm…”

“Ah, is he the mascot?”

“No!” Matsuda yelped just as L answered “Yes” and started a new stack of milk cartons.

“How do you know his name?” a gruff older detective demanded.

“Ah, Mogi,” Beyond checked. “I’m just _special_ like that.”

“Why did you bring him here?” Mogi challenged L. “If he would be so dangerous working with Kira, wouldn’t it be better for him to stay on the other side of the world?”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” L quoted.

“Have you got any jam?” Beyond interrupted, growing bored of this game.

“Fridge, third shelf,” L dismissed, and Beyond tore to the kitchen to gather two jars, throwing one to Misora, who threw it straight back, both their reflexes flawless.

“I’ll have something else, thank you,” she told him, joining him in the kitchen to look at what was available in the fridge as he made a start on his own jar. The members of the task force gawped openly as he ate it with his fingers.

“He’s like L,” Matsuda muttered too loudly to the man beside him. “What happened to your face?”

“Matsuda,” L sighed.

“Well, _he’s_ an idiot,” Beyond commented to Misora, “Is that a question he usually asks people?”

“You do look a mess,” she chuckled, wiping some jam from his cheek. How on earth had it got so far from his mouth anyway? “Helmet hair isn’t a good look on you.”

Beyond’s hair was thin and patchy anyway with thanks to the burns, but when it was sticking in all directions and messy it was difficult to tell. Flattened by the motorcycle helmet, it showed bare spots of burned skin through, emphasising the burns on his face and neck even further.

“Just the hair?” he raised a thin eyebrow.

“Well, no, but at least that can be fixed,” she reached out and ruffled it as much as she could, making a little improvement.

“And these… people… are meant to help on the case?” one of the as yet unidentified task force members, the one with a large afro, questioned L.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t trust a book by its cover…” Matsuda hedged, but he looked very confused. Misora made sure to smile at him, trying to encourage the vague support towards Beyond – it would make things easier – but the burned man spotted her smile and turned her face to his, stealing her lips in a kiss.

“Jealous?” she laughed when he released her.

“Wouldn’t be the first time you took interest in an idiot,” he complained, huffing childishly.

“Is L watching?” she leaned in and whispered in his ear. Beyond glanced as subtly as he could and grinned.

“Yes,” he told her quietly. “Pervert.”

“Give him an eyeful,” she challenged, and found herself swiftly lifted onto the kitchen countertop, Beyond’s tongue in her mouth and his hands pushing up under her black leather jacket.

“Woah woah woah!” Matsuda jumped up from his chair, yelping. “We don’t need to see that!”

“Matsuda, shut up and sit down,” L scolded fiercely, not looking away from the pair as Misora felt the countertop against her back, Beyond pressing her down against the cold marble.

“Try to ignore them,” Mogi advised Matsuda, focusing on some papers in front of him. The young detective spluttered, flustered, as he failed to look away from where Beyond had unzipped the black leather and pushed up her top, baring her deep red lace bra.

“Ryuz… Ryuga, stop watching!” the young detective demanded, spotting L still observing, unblinking. “Aizawa, Mogi, say something! The chief let this pervert watch his _family_! His daughter…”

“Ooh,” Beyond broke apart from Misora, leaving her to sort out her clothing and get down from the counter and rushing to the living room where he hopped, cat like, onto the back of L’s chair, his weight tipping it over backwards as L’s arms flailed to try to keep his balance. Beyond remained crouched over L where the detective fell on his face on the floor. “Who were you watching?”

“Bey… Ryuzaki!” Misora shouted, tugging down her top and getting down from the counter. “If he’s broken his nose you’re in trouble.”

“Aww, it’s all good, chair’s padded,” Beyond looked up at her with pleading eyes. “L’s got a crush.”

“He’s a suspect,” L huffed, rubbing his nose and narrowing his eyes as he righted himself and crouched. Misora knew that crouch; L was thinking about kicking Beyond, but thankfully he seemed to think better of it. Thank goodness. She was quite sure that would have ended very badly for him.

“Same thing,” Beyond laughed. “Is it the girl?”

“…No,”

“Not his wife?”

“His son is Kira,” L told them. “I’m seven percent certain.”

“Seven percent?” Misora questioned.

“Light is not Kira,” Matsuda argued supportively.

“Nah, he’s Kira,” Beyond grinned. “What ya doing about that?”

“Well, I was trying to find evidence,” L huffed. “And that’s where you come in.”

“Ah,” Beyond nodded sagely.

“No, Ryuzaki,” Misora tugged at his arm, encouraging him to move away. “It’s late, we can start on the case tomorrow.”

“It’s only five,” he challenged, glancing at the clock.

“Not in US time,” Misora snapped. “It’s three am, and I’m tired.”

“Pull an all-nighter,” he argued.

“No,” she pulled him to his feet. “L put me in charge, and I’m deciding we’re going to bed whether you like it or not.”

He froze, not moving though she continued to pull on his arm, and suddenly she wondered if she had overstepped the mark; regretting her words, she still didn’t back down.

“You’ll pay for that,” he warned her, peeling her fingers from around his arm and stalking through in the direction he presumed the bedrooms would be. Misora lingered behind, heart suddenly racing.

“And this was going so well,” she sighed, glancing at L. “If I don’t survive the night…”

“Do you even have a next of kin?” the detective was still smiling.

“The FBI have the numbers,” she collected a jar of jam from the kitchen, turning it over in her hands.

“Misora?”

“What?” she wished L would stop smiling; it was unnerving, even though she was used to it from Beyond.

“Use protection.”

“Oh, fucking hell,” she groaned. Not another one.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A good rule in a relationship is to never go to bed angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a couple of people asking if Misora's just going to get herself into another abusive relationship after Raye...  
> It's all a matter of perspective, I suppose. Beyond isn't exactly a good person. He doesn't even pretend to be. But he does at least seem to respect Misora, which Raye did not do. Will he hurt her? Maybe, maybe not. Is he manipulative and controlling in his own way? Absolutely. Does he hide it? No, not really.

Misora stood outside of the door, a post it stuck to the hardwood front with the number 13 on it, clearly Beyond’s room. Another post it, directly below, had her initials.

L had clearly assumed that they would be sleeping in the same room, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She could justify it that she was expected to keep an eye on Beyond at all times, but she was quite sure that there would be just one bed on the other side of that door.

That, and a very angry and very dangerous Beyond Birthday, no longer restrained with any sort of chains and quite possibly armed; he was resourceful and had just had access to a kitchen. She was, quite possibly, doomed.

There was no point hovering at the door, afraid and increasingly anxious. She pushed it open slowly, wary of any traps.

The room was empty at first glance, and she opened the door the whole way so that he could not be hidden behind it. It was dimly lit with only the light that penetrated the curtains, and there was a door at the other side, closed, that presumably led to a bathroom. As expected, a single super king-sized bed sat in the centre of the room.

“Beyond?”

No answer came from the cavernous room, so she flicked the light switch and carefully moved in, keeping her back close to the wall so he could not sneak up on her.

He could have gone to another room, but she didn’t expect it. That left the wardrobe, the bathroom, and…

A burned hand struck out with snake like speed from under the bed, catching her ankle. She had fully expected it, but that didn’t stop her from being startled and letting out a shriek.

“For fuck’s sake, Beyond!” she snarled at the hand as she heard the detectives in the other room rushing to her aid, stopped by L’s sharp command. A giggle emerged from under the bed.

“Join me,” he demanded in a tone that allowed for no arguments. She sighed, shaking her ankle loose from his grasp and laying down on the floor, rolling under the bed. She found herself face to burned face with him for a moment before he turned so that he was laid on his back, looking up at the bedsprings.

“So, what are you going to do to me?” she asked, breaking the prolonged silence that ensued.

“Do to you?” he glanced at her, frowning. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” she was surprised. “You said I’d pay for that.”

“You will,” he sounded casual. “But I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You’re not?”

“No,” he was still frowning, looking confused. “Although, we do need to talk about this.”

“Talk?”

“Yes,” he nodded, looking back up at the bedsprings. “When there are problems in a relationship they should be discussed in a mature conversation rather than rash actions being taken by either party.”

Misora stared at him. Her brain struggled to process this, not sure what she was more surprised by.

Beyond wasn’t going to hurt her. He was calling this a _relationship_. He was suggesting _mature_ conversation, not something she would associate with Beyond Birthday. Beyond wanted to have said mature conversation whilst laid under the bed like children.

“Okay,” she agreed, not sure what else to say, but she was no longer quite so afraid.

“Misora,” he began, sighing heavily. “This is hard for me. Following your lead, giving way even a little…”

“I know,” she acknowledged. “I’m so grateful that you’re going along with this.”

“I’m trying to,” he smiled a little. “I’m really trying, but I’m not used to submitting to anything…”

“Even a traffic light,” she teased.

“Even a traffic light,” he chuckled. He met her eyes, and the look he gave her was so open and honest that her breath caught. “I told you that you shouldn’t have to be submissive in every aspect of your life, which would mean I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t try to give way a little in mine too. I want this to work, really I do, but… you can’t talk to me like you did just then. You can’t just order me around like that.”

“I know,” she winced. “I’m sorry… I think I sounded like Raye, for a moment there. I’m really, really sorry.”

Raye. He would never have had a mature conversation like this. He’d have stormed off until she came to him begging and apologising, and here Beyond, the immature and inappropriate man, was the one volunteering the solution. It was unexpected, it was surprising, and it was fantastic.

“You should be,” he told her, not angrily, not scolding. A simple statement of fact. “No matter what L’s paying you to do, you’re not the boss of me, Naomi, but… I’m willing to work together, if you are. We’re a team.”

“I…” what could she say to that? Beyond never failed to surprise her. “I’d like that.”

“So,” he considered, “I’m sorry, that I frightened you.”

“Oh,” she frowned. “It’s okay. It was my fault.”

“Still, I don’t want you to be afraid of me, and I’m sorry,” he pressed.

“You’re forgiven,” she allowed. “And I’m sorry I ordered you like that.”

“You’re forgiven,” he smiled. “I’ll try not to scare you so much in the future.”

“And I’ll try not to speak to you like that,” she promised.

They fell into a comfortable silence for a while until Misora felt that she had to break it.

“So, under the bed huh?”

“I like it,” he told her, matter of fact.

“It would be more comfortable in the bed,” she argued.

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “It’s a bit romantic, though, isn’t it? I mean, this is how we first met.”

“Romantic isn’t the word I’d have used,” she laughed, but she had to admit that it was quite sweet that he had even thought of it that way.

“Can we stay down here?” he asked. “It’s still daylight, it’s too bright on the bed.”

“I suppose so,” she allowed. “Give me a minute.”

Rolling out from under the bed, she collected the pillows and one layer of the bedcovers and shoved them under the bed to him so that he could arrange them. She left him for a few minutes then to brush her teeth and freshen up after the long flight, before rolling back under the bed and offering him the second jar of jam.

“Positive reinforcement?” he queried, taking the jam anyway.

“It works,” she argued.

“That it does,” he chuckled. “Do you know what would work even better?”

He swiped his finger through the jam and stroked it over her collar bone, raising an eyebrow, a question.

“I…” she hesitated, debating. Even now she was wary of him, but after that conversation, how could she really fear what he would do to her? _With_ her, as she was sure he would correct. “Give me a moment more?”

“Alright,” he sighed, turning on to his back again.

She had no space under the bed, so she moved out from under it again to remove her top and, after a moment’s hesitation, her trousers too, leaving her red lace lingerie in place before she steeled her nerves and joined him again.

Beyond was watching her hungrily, eyes trailing over every inch of her skin in the half darkness. He hesitated, then held out the jar of jam.

“You set the limits,” he told her, “I will be licking the jam off of you; if there is anywhere you are uncomfortable with me exploring, leave it bare.”

Misora nodded, letting go of the last of her worry. How could she hold on to it when he was being so very good to her?

Her fingers dipped in to the jam and she began to explore, making a show of sensually stroking as she spread the jam, along the column of her throat and down, over her chest – careful not to get it on the bra, but slipping a finger beneath to trail around each of her nipples, holding his gaze as she did so. She moved down, over her abs and down again, managing to reach her thighs but unable to reach down any further, constrained as she was by the narrow gap between the bed and the floor.

“Shall I do your calves?” he offered, spotting the problem. She smiled, offering him the jam, and he began at her ankles, the rough surface of his scarred fingers brushing feather light through the jam over her skin, almost ticklish.

“You’re going to get in a mess,” she realised, frowning at his white top, and he held her gaze, assessing.

“Will it bother you if I take it off?”

“Go ahead,” she agreed. It was much easier, phrasing it this way than asking him to do so.

“You might not like what you see,” he warned.

“Really?” she couldn’t help but laugh. “Because the rest of you would be a perfect model for an artwork.”

“I bring a taste of Edvard Munch to the modern day,” Beyond argued, “but this is not my own artwork.”

Through a strange contortion he managed to remove his shirt without getting out from under the bed, discarding it casually and almost looking self-conscious as he waited for her response.

His chest was a patchwork; the burns interspersed with skin grafts over the worst areas, pale and healed skin surrounded by scarring and raw areas. One of his nipples was gone, the area covered with a graft, as was his umbilicus. The effect was admittedly strange, but Misora had grown so used to Beyond’s burned face that this seemed so minor, though it was clear that he did not share the sentiment. She wondered whether he would be so concerned if he _didn’t_ have the grafts, if those worst areas of burns had been left to fester. She suspected he would have preferred it that way, if he could.

The surface was so odd that she almost missed the protrusion of his ribs at first. She had always known that he was thin, very thin for his height, but this was emphasised now that he was shirtless with every rib not only visible but markedly so.

“Shit, do you ever eat?” she asked him before she could stop herself, and cursed the impulsive question but it did not upset him. Instead he laughed, the wariness gone from his expression and replaced with curiosity.

“That’s the bit that bothers you?” he questioned. “It’ll be better now I’m out. More pastries and cakes and jam.”

“You’ve starved yourself because the food was savoury?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted. Reassured that she had adjusted, he returned to her ankle and spread the jam upwards along the back of her calf to the inside of her knee, placing a kiss to the kneecap.

Misora smiled, letting herself relax back to the floor, enjoying the feeling of his hands and moments later his tongue laving over her skin.

“Hmm,” she breathed as the jam was gently lapped away. “So much for an aggressive top.”

Beyond’s hands caught her ankles, holding them down.

“I’m the one in control here,” he reminded her. “Just because I don’t need to pin you down or force you to make you submit, you will anyway. There’s more power in that, don’t you think?”

Misora smiled just a little, entranced as his tongue stroked around the back of her knee, chasing the jam there.

“You’re right,” she agreed.

“You give yourself to me freely,” he continued, blowing cold air over the back of her knee, making her squeak and pull away. He laughed softly, guiding her leg back down. “Perhaps you’re not begging me yet, perhaps you’re not ready for me to fuck you, but I can be patient. You will.”

Misora didn’t answer him, could barely focus to answer him as he repeated the treatment with her other leg, but she could not deny that if things continued to progress as they had, he was right, and he undoubtedly wouldn’t need to be all that patient.

She couldn’t help herself but to tense as he removed the jam from the top of her thighs, equally as gentle though he did grasp her hips, holding them still as she involuntary tried to squirm away from his tongue. She hadn’t allowed the jam to go near her underwear, and she found herself certain in the knowledge that he would keep his word, that he wouldn’t explore anywhere she had not indicated with the sticky treat, but the more he laved the skin so close to her core, the more she wished she had been braver, had encouraged him.

He moved before she could embarrass herself, before she could plead with him to betray his word, his body laid out above her as he kissed her lips and she tasted the jam and the slightly salty taste of her skin on his tongue. She was instantly aware of his hard cock pressed against her thigh, especially when he ground down against her.

“Sorry,” he apologised as he pulled away from her lips and shifted so that he was no longer pressing against her. She shook her head, unable to speak, unable to tell him that it was alright, that not only did she not mind, she wanted to see him come.

Since she could not speak, she took action, her hand reaching in to his trousers and running her thumb over the head of his cock. He caught her wrist as his eyes fell closed.

“It’s your turn,” he scolded her, taking her hand away and gently, so that she could pull away if she wanted to, catching both her wrists above her head. She allowed the restraint, relaxing in to it. “Can you keep them there or do I have to tie them?”

“You should tie them,” she offered, deciding determinedly to trust. He blinked down at her, taking a moment as if to make sure she was serious, before getting his top and tearing it to pieces to make strips to tie them with, loosely. It wasn’t much of a restraint; she could easily slip her wrists out if she wanted to.

“Now, hush,” he encouraged, lips and tongue tracing over the angle of her jaw and down to lave the jam from her neck.

She was struggling now, finding it nearly impossible to remain still and allow him to touch her. A tension was settling inside her, different to any she had felt before; this was not a hurried, sudden cresting pleasure but a low burning flame, spreading through her and making his every touch the sole focus of her world. He was taking his time with her, ignoring his own pleasure as hers built.

He left the jam she had spread below her bra to last, and looked to her for approval before he removed it. She gave it gladly, biting her lip to prevent any sounds escaping, not sure how soundproof the room was and how much the task force may be able to hear from the sitting room.

“Can I?” he spoke softly, the words surprising her, and then she felt one of his hands tracing the waistband of her underwear.

“Please,” she gasped out, lifting her hips to make it easier for him to remove them. He drew one of her nipples into his mouth as he did, and without her lip between her teeth a moan escaped.

“You are close?” it was more a statement than a question, but she nodded anyway. “My fingers or my tongue, pet? Can I taste you?”

“Oh,” she gasped, trying to frame the words but her tongue would not obey, so she managed only to nod. He smiled reassuringly, moving down.

The first lave of his tongue over her core, the sound of his pleased groan, his hands catching her hips and holding her still, all were too much and not enough at the same time. The fire burning within her focused, her whole body shaking with the tension she could not release, not yet, though she needed it desperately.

A sudden change, a firm decision, and she slid one of her hands from the loops of the restraint and reached down, pulling him away and upwards, wrapping her legs around his hips and catching his lips in a kiss.

He tasted of her, and his cock was hot and solid in her hand as she guided him to her entrance.

There were no words, there was no need for speech now. He pressed inside, filling her and stretching her until she gasped and rocked against him, and he breathed against her neck as he began to move within her, his every thrust and every twist of his hips intended for her pleasure rather than his own, but as she tightened and quivered around him he tensed too, silently gasping as her world went black.

He was still hard within her as she opened her eyes, her body still shaking as the remnants of the most intense pleasure she had ever experienced lingered in her muscles and she realised that she may even have lost consciousness, just for a moment. He had moved away a little, watching her, fascinated, but his lips caught hers as she blinked up at him.

“Is this still okay?” he checked as he moved within her, and she nodded, tightening the grasp of her legs around him.

It took time, as he tried to find a way to find sensation despite his scarred skin. He adapted, his deeper thrusts abandoned in favour of shallow, angled ones that hit a sensitive spot within her she had found with the vibrator he had encouraged her to buy, but never with Raye. She couldn’t fully believe it as her body began to respond again, more quickly this time, the slow burning flame replaced with a demanding need that grew as he bent as much as he could to lave her nipple with is tongue, drawing it between his teeth and nipping sharply as his shallow thrusts broke and he began to drive into her harder, deeper, and her legs tightened around his back.

“Bailey,” she breathed, the choice of name force of habit by this point, “Oh, fuck…”

It almost hurt, to orgasm again so soon, to tighten around his cock and milk it dry as he climaxed too, driving deep inside her and he bit his own lip, blood dripping onto her chest in an effort to avoid sinking his teeth into her perfect, unspoiled skin.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beyond and Naomi get their update on the Kira case from L. Beyond proposes a prudent solution.

They were awake by 5am, their body clocks not adjusted, and Misora took her time to treat all of Beyond’s burn scars with his moisturiser – all of them, including his cock, and a little extra time to focus on that particular part of his anatomy afterwards.

L was already awake, or perhaps he had not gone to sleep, as they sought out breakfast.

“Ah, you survived,” L grinned at her as she blushed brightly.

“Shut up,” she huffed, ignoring him in favour of searching the fridge. Beyond didn’t do the same, perching up on the arm of L’s chair which rocked precariously as if it was about to topple again.

“Did Wammy bring the bags?” he demanded. “I’m without a shirt.”

“I noticed,” L’s eyes flickered over Beyond’s chest in a manner that Misora instantly noticed and felt anger and jealousy rising. “You could stay that way?”

“Like what you see, Lawli-pop?” Beyond preened. Misora grimaced; she really didn’t need this right now. Couldn’t they at least wait to start flirting until she’d had a cup of coffee?

“What if I do?” L teased back.

“Naomi, fancy a threesome?” Beyond called, and she deliberately banged her forehead against the fridge door, trying to clear the mental image from her mind.

“I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you,” she managed quite reasonably, if she did say so herself.

“Sorry then Lawli, ladies first,” he shrugged, leaving his perch to join Misora in the kitchen and wrap his arms around her. “You’re not jealous are you, darling?”

“Not at all,” she thought she very nearly managed not to sound bitter. Was he actually interested, or were they just winding her up? She knew he had something of a crush on who he imagined L to be, how much was he attracted to the real thing?

“Ooh, you are,” he giggled, spinning her round so that her back was against the fridge and kissing her possessively. “Don’t need to be, you get shotgun.”

“Like in a car?” she judged a little.

“Yep, driving a big stick,” he grinned. Groaning, she rolled her eyes.

“You’re such a child.”

“Best not be, otherwise you’re seriously going to prison pet,” he let her go, shoving her aside in favour of snatching jam out of the fridge. She grabbed the jar out of his hand and spread it on some cold pancakes she had found in a packet in the fridge. “Hey!”

“You need the calories,” she told him, pushing the plate into his hands. He glared at it, betrayed, but resigned himself and took it to sit.

“So, tell me about the case?” he demanded of L, grimacing as he took a bite of the pancake. He looked accusingly to Misora. “This isn’t even good jam.”

“Oh, stop complaining, I’ll make a batch myself later,” she promised, effectively silencing him.

L was hesitant as he began his story, which took a long time to get anywhere as he seemed to avoid certain details until Beyond called him out on this.

“So, let’s summarise,” Beyond suggested when L was done. “Kira only kills criminals.”

“Yes.”

“You got involved without any offer of pay?” Beyond raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“You taunted him on live television?”

“Yes.”

“You can’t work out how he kills?”

L scowled but nodded.

“He impressed you?”

L huffed, hugging his knees, but nodded.

“So, you watched him on hidden cameras for days.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry,” Misora interrupted, scowling. “Are we just going to skip the part where Kira killed my ex?”

“Yes,” Beyond grinned broadly. “He deserves a medal for that.”

“Beyond!”

“What?” he huffed. “That douchebag deserved it.”

Deciding that she wasn’t going to win, wouldn’t be able to convince Beyond that there was perhaps something bad about Raye being dead, she rolled her eyes but fell silent. He turned his focus back to L.

“You went to his college?”

“I did.”

“You played tennis with him?”

“Yes.”

“And you invited him to join the task force?”

“Yes.”

“You fancy him,” Beyond concluded, sitting back in his chair. “What’s the issue? Fuck him already.”

“That’s not what…” L was blushing, Misora realised, that was why he had his head dipped enough that his unruly hair hid his cheeks.

“You _like_ him,” she teased, laughing. Oh, goodness, L was definitely going to get a taste of his own medicine, the pervert.

“That’s besides the point!” L argued, flustered.

“Oh, that’s never besides the point,” Beyond denied.

“Not everything can be solved by seducing it, Beyond,” L huffed. “Especially not the Kira case.”

“Well, that depends on what outcome you’re expecting.”

“Catching Kira.”

“Define catching? I mean, if you want to stop him killing you’re going about this the wrong way, but if you just want to know who he is and prove it, fucking him would be a perfect way to do it,” Beyond pointed out.

“Of course he wants to stop Kira…” Misora tried to point out to Beyond but was interrupted.

“Well, actually…” L’s toes were fidgeting, and he still hadn’t looked up. Beyond cackled with laugher.

“L?” Misora prompted.

“It has been a good game, and he’s challenged me like no one else could,” L murmured.

“Hey!” Beyond huffed. L finally looked up to grin at him.

“You lost, get over it,” he taunted.

“So what’s the plan?” Beyond demanded. “Don’t tell me, you plan to catch him and recruit him like your usual criminals?”

“Pretty much,” L admitted.

“Lawli-pop, that won’t work.”

“It always has before,” L snapped.

“He’ll kill you before you get close enough to catch him,” Beyond argued. “You’ve got to fuck him. Only way you’ll survive this now, Lawli-pops.”

L glared silently for a long time.

“You’re suggesting I lose?” he finally complained. “That I stop trying to catch him and just give in?”

“If you keep fighting either he kills you or you destroy him,” Beyond pointed out. “Then you’d have nothing left to recruit.”

“But I don’t lose.”

“You know,” Beyond looked serious for a moment, glancing at Misora. “It’s not actually as bad as it seems.”

A silence fell over the room in which Naomi curled up beside Beyond, resting her head on his bony shoulder.

“You had a plan,” she suggested after a while. “You called us in for a reason?”

L shuffled, looking embarrassed still.

“Well… I… you…”

“Spit it out,” Beyond prompted, laughing.

“I don’t know how to seduce someone, okay?” L told them in a rush of words. “I need your help.”

“Oh my God,” Misora looked to Beyond and together they broke into hysterics.

“Lawli’s a virgin?”

“Greatest detective in the world,”

“Can’t fuck a duck,”

“Beyond, that’s disgusting.”

“Play on words pet,”

“No, I mean, poor duck,” she grinned, and Beyond guffawed.

“Wonder if he’s pretty?”

“Kira?”

“Yeah, could make it a foursome,” Beyond waggled his eyebrows.

“Not for all the tea in China,”

“You don’t even like tea.”

“Figure of speech.”

“What about if I share my jam?” he offered, very generously and seriously.

“You’ll do that anyway.”

“L, is Kira pretty?”

“… he is,” L hesitantly allowed, strawberry red from the tips of his ears to the bridge of his nose.

“See darling, Kira’s pretty,” Beyond argued. “Bet I could dominate him, bend him over one of these chairs…”

“I’m not sharing,” she moved to straddle his hips, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Aww, spoilsport,” he complained, but he was beaming, and he kissed her firmly. “Then I’m not sharing either.”

“Good,” she laughed.

“So, we’ll just have to focus on getting L boned?”

“Or L boning…” she argued.

“Nah, look at him, natural bottom…”

“Oh, I don’t know, he’s a bit like you…”

“Heracy!” Beyond shoved her out of his lap, and she only just caught herself before she could land in a heap on the floor. “Take that back!”

“Nope,” she grinned up at him.

“Can we focus?” L demanded, but Beyond ignored him.

“I said take that back!” he stood, looming over her. She just grinned up at him, even when he reached down to pull her to her feet and spin them so that she was pressed into the chair, hands catching onto the chair back and body bent at the hips. “Take it back, or I’ll fuck you right here right now.”

“How would that prove that L’s not a top?”

“It wouldn’t,” he agreed. “But it’d feel fucking good.”

“Please don’t,” L yelped, and Misora sighed.

“Okay, okay, if he makes noises like that he’s probably not a top,” she agreed, “I take it back, you’re not actually similar.”

“Too fucking right,” he let her go, pulling her into his lap as he sat back down. She could feel his hard cock pressed against her back.

“Beyond,” she giggled as she looked to L, his head in his hands. “I think we broke the pervert.”

“Yeah, L, what’s all this ‘please don’t’ rubbish?” he demanded, tightening his grip around her waist as she shifted, inadvertently rubbing against him more. The detective stammered, trying to form words. Misora had the distinct impression that he was rarely speechless and found this highly distressing.

“Alright, that’s probably enough,” she gently reprimanded Beyond. “He can’t cope.”

“Big baby,” Beyond complained, resting his chin on her shoulder. “…Fine, I’ll behave.”

“Thank you,” she beamed. “So, L, I guess you had a plan?”

“He’s coming here tomorrow,” L told her, relieved. “His name is Yagami Light, he’s the son of the police chief, which… might complicate things.”

Misora shrugged. That seemed a mere bump in the road compared to the fact that this man also happened to be Kira. “How old is he?”

“… eighteen,” L sighed. “Just.”

“How just?”

“Weeks rather than months,” he admitted.

“Well, he’s legal,” Beyond argued. “Seven years younger than you though L, you wanting a toy boy?”

“He doesn’t act it,” L argued.

“And has he shown any signs he might be interested in you in return?”

“… no. Well, there was the tennis match…”

“Tennis?” she raised a sculpted eyebrow.

“It was intense,” L beamed, remembering.

“I’m not sure tennis counts as a sign of interest in a relationship, but okay,” she chuckled. “Anything else?”

“Not really,” he admitted.

“Is he even gay?” Beyond questioned. L shrugged.

“He was looking at women in magazines when I was watching on the camera, but there was absolutely no response… I don’t think he was all that enthused… do you want to see?”

“You have it recorded?” Misora questioned.

“Of course he does,” Beyond laughed. “Pervert.”

“I’ll just bring it up,” L turned on the computer and spun the screen to face them. They watched as a very handsome young man, if a little gangly still in his youth, needing to fill out a touch more, laid on his bed idly flipping through magazines with women posing in bikinis.

“Ah, pretty boy’s not interested in girls,” Beyond concluded almost immediately. “He definitely knew someone was watching, this is all for show.”

“I thought so too,” L agreed.

“Still, might not be interested in guys either,” Beyond pointed out. “Maybe he’s just not interested at all?”

“Well, that would be a huge disappointment,” L deadpanned, glaring daggers into the other man.

“Maybe he just gets off on murder,” Beyond suggested darkly.

“Don’t be mean,” Misora scolded. “We can’t presume until we know for sure. Maybe he gets off on little froggy detectives with bare feet and unwashed hair.”

“I wash my hair,” L complained.

“When?” she demanded, taking in the sugar that was stuck in the fringe, the sticky mess in the strands beside his left ear where he must have run fingers through it after eating something sweet.

“... Last week,” he admitted reluctantly. “But I do wash!”

“Well, step one,” she determined, pointing to the bedroom corridor. “Before anyone arrives, go get a bath.”

“But…”

“No buts,” she put on her most maternal tone, spying in L a childish temper tantrum waiting to happen. “Go. Now. Or do I have to send Beyond to help?”

“I will,” her odd partner offered eagerly.

“No, no!” L jumped to his feet. “I’m going.”

“Wash behind your ears, too,” she reminded the detective as he scurried from the room.

“He’s done for,” Beyond noted once he was gone.

“He’s pretty whipped, isn’t he?” she laughed. Beyond nuzzled into her neck, nipping gently at the skin there. They were peaceful for a few minutes until they heard water running.

“I wonder where Watari’s got to with the bags?” she frowned, having seen no sign of him.

“I… may have slipped something in to one of them,” Beyond admitted.

“What?” she startled, pulling away. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, what did you do?”

“Nothing all that bad, I promise,” he held up his hands in surrender. “It wasn’t drugs or anything…”

“What did you even have in the prison that would be dangerous enough to get him held up for this long?”

“It wasn’t from the prison, it was from that shop you took me to for clothes,” he admitted. “It was just a bit of porn…”

“Beyond,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “You do realise that Japanese customs prohibits pornography being brought into the country, especially without being specially declared?”

“Well I do now,” he sulked.

“Oh my goodness,” she couldn’t help but laugh. “They’re holding Watari in customs and investigating him for bringing in porn?”

“I’ll bet he’s loving that,” Beyond giggled. “Pink hair and all.”

“I wonder if they’ll show him it?” she chuckled. She should have felt sorry for the older man, but really, all that was likely to happen was that the would get a fine, if that, and they could only hold him for twenty-four hours, maximum. With L’s sway he would definitely not get anything worse even if they wanted to charge him with something, and she strongly doubted that he would get a criminal record. They could definitely afford to pay a small fine; she was getting ten million for her role here, a few hundred for bringing in porn would be nothing.

“I wonder if he’ll enjoy it,” Beyond waggled his eyebrows, and Misora punched him lightly on the shoulder.

“Oh, stop it, it’s weird enough without bringing Watari into it,” she scolded.

“No, I suppose you like younger men.”

“Stop it,” she scolded, “I don’t like younger men, just because I like you and you’re younger than me…”

“Cougar,” Beyond teased, smirking.

“Oh, shut up,” she huffed. “One more comment like that and you and your hand can deal with that massive erection on your own.”

“Massive?” he teased.

“Just shut up,” she blushed.

“You said it,” he pointed out. He caught her hand and guided it to his crotch. “If I shut up will you do something about it?”

“… yes,” she agreed with a resigned sigh, shaking her wrist loose from his hand. “Honestly, how many times is this in the last twenty-four hours?”

“Making up for lost time,” he argued as her hand wrapped around his cock, teasing with now practiced motions at the head. “Two years in prison, Naomi, _two full years_.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kira comes to work & brings something with him. Beyond encourages some rapid progress... in the case. Yes, solving the case is definitely their main motivation. Definitely... Not.

The Kira taskforce, missing one of their number, arrived at half hour intervals, followed eventually by the young man Misora and Beyond were waiting for – Kira.

The eighteen-year-old was pretty in that most flawless way that would allow him to star on the cover of magazines, but there was something about him that immediately bothered Misora. There was a coldness in his eyes, a blankness and a mask to his features that betrayed that he was a liar, that he was habitually hiding his true thoughts and feelings from others. She had seen that look before, sometimes on truly terrible men, and it made the small hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. This was not a boy; this was a predator, young yet and perhaps not fully developed, but a psychopath in the making all the same.

L, on the other hand, looked at this boy with a mask of cold but focused interest that hid the fascination that lay beneath. She would feel sorry for him, if he were not already aware of the kind of man that had caught his interest. He was not interested in this young man out of some foolish naivety, she knew, he was drawn to the monster behind the mask. A lying monster, L had called him when he had emerged from his bath still dripping wet and wearing only a towel when he re-joined them in the sitting room, a man much like L himself.

“Misora, do you see that?” Beyond’s quiet question whispered directly into her ear drew her out of her thoughts.

“Kira’s a pretty boy?” she questioned, equally quietly, not sure what gave Beyond so much concern in his tone.

“No, the huge ass camp as fuck demon he brought in with him?”

Misora frowned, catching herself before she could look around the room in an obvious way and making her head turn subtler, disguised as turning to give him a peck on the cheek.

“…No, Beyond, there’s nothing there,” she told him.

“Well I promise, Naomi, this isn’t a wind up,” he did sound very serious. “It’s ugly as sin, all made up like a clown with a leather fetish and a love heart earring.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep, honest to God,” he impressed.

“Well, I guess that’s how he kills then, huh? Wonder why you can see it and no one else can,” she questioned, since no one else in the room seemed to be able to see it either. L and Light were chattering away, debating some unimportant detail about the case. The detective seemed to be playing devil’s advocate for no clear reason other than the challenge Light provided him as they argued.

“Something to do with my eyes no doubt, same as I can see names and lifespans, but this I’ve never seen before,” Beyond suggested. “It isn’t paying any attention to me, so I don’t think it knows I can see it.”

“Well, this complicates things,” she sighed.

“Doesn’t it just?”

“We need to work out what this demon thing’s doing before we can step in for L,” she pointed out.

“I wonder whether it’s protecting Kira?”

“If that’s the case it probably won’t be upset if L’s going to seduce him, but what if it’s some sort of freaky possession thing?”

“Could be,” Beyond snorted. “Seriously, you should see this thing, it’s like a homunculus of homosexuality.”

“Oh my goodness, we should get L that on a T-shirt,” she giggled, unable to help herself.

“That’s a fantastic idea,” he grinned, and she could see him already plotting. “Think there’s a permanent marker anywhere?”

“You are not writing it on all his white shirts,” she scolded.

“Yes I am,” he raised an eyebrow, daring her to challenge him. After a moment she sighed, choosing to pick her battles. By the end of the day she was fairly sure he would have marked the words on all of L’s tops, probably including the one on his back.

“Okay, but can we focus on the demon thing?”

“I wonder if it’s a Shinigami?” Beyond frowned. “L, do you know, Gods of Death love apples?”

“Oh, please don’t try to bribe it with apples,” she groaned. “Can we just watch it first, see what it’s up to?”

Beyond sighed heavily. She knew he was a man of action, and waiting wouldn’t be easy, but he nodded against her shoulder.

“Alright, fine,” he agreed. “But if I’m the only one who can watch Billie Joe Armstrong over there, you have to find a permanent marker?”

Misora, realising that arguing would only lead to a sulking Beyond Birthday, nodded.

“Don’t take your eyes off that thing,” she instructed as she untangled herself from his arms. “And for crying out loud, be _subtle_ about it.”

* * *

 

At lunch Beyond tipped half a container of Misora’s homemade jam over L’s last clean white shirt on the pretence of having tripped over the rug, and though he mourned the loss of the jam (and did unfortunately insist on licking the remainder off the leather of the chair) he declared the loss a worthy sacrifice when L returned, glaring at him and wearing one of the shirts Misora had neatly marked.

“I know you’re behind this,” L glared at Beyond even though the writing was quite clearly hers. “This is bad behaviour.”

“Ooh, big man,” Beyond squared up, looming over L. “What are you gonna do about it, huh?”

“And getting Watari arrested was perfectly acceptable?” Matsuda questioned. The old man had arrived back at half past ten that morning, still dyed pink, and had unloaded all of the bags without a word before retreating to his room to clean up and no doubt recover.

“He’s not wrong,” Light Yagami only smiled a little, but his eyes betrayed his utter delight. “That shirt’s a stroke of genius.”

Beyond smirked, going to Light and lounging in his lap before the young man could move away, wrapping an arm around his neck and stopping him leaning back as far as he could.

“How’d you like a s _troke_ of a genius, Kira-kun?” he teased, running long fingers over his collar bone.

“I’m not Kira,” Light reflexively responded and caught Beyond’s wrist before he could continue to caress down his chest. Despite having a burned and scarred, creepy criminal in his lap Light continued to look perfectly composed, not even uncomfortable.

“Don’t be boooring,” Beyond rolled his eyes, “take pride in your achievements, Kira-kun. Perhaps an _ego_ massage?”

Beyond’s free hand caught Light’s shoulder, pressing into the tense muscles of his upper back. Light caught his other wrist, looking to Misora.

“A little help?” he pleaded.

Beyond’s head snapped round to her with a mischievous grin, and without words she knew exactly what he was thinking. He really was a terrible influence… but she had to admit, it would be far more fun…

She crossed the room to the pair, standing behind Light’s chair and leaning over to massage his shoulders.

“Better?” she purred in his ear, to the delight of Beyond who cackled at Light’s horrified expression.

“Ryuga, aren’t you meant to be in charge?” he looked desperately to L whilst he still tried to restrain Beyond, who had shuffled round in his lap so that he was straddling him and had managed to lean in enough to lick the side of his neck.

“L, help him, this is sexual assault! I can’t watch this,” Matsuda pleaded, also looking to L for support.

“Turn away then,” L unhelpfully suggested, joining the group around Kira. He lingered for a long while, watching impassively as Light struggled to push Beyond out of his lap. “Which would you rather I help you with first?”

“Ryuzaki!” Light exclaimed, trying again to shove the burned man away. L bit his thumb between his teeth, trying and failing to hide a smile, and tapped Beyond on the shoulder with his other.

“Move?” he requested, and Beyond looked up, smirked, and complied, perching instead on the arm of the chair. Light jolted, however, shoving himself as far back into the chair as he could as L replaced Beyond in his lap.

“Ryuga!” Matsuda and Light exclaimed, simultaneously horrified. Beyond giggled, and to his ears and Light’s so did a Shinigami, their laughs extraordinarily similar and catching the burned man’s attention. His eyes momentarily flickered to the hulking creature, and as their gaze met both their laughs were silenced.

Misora noticed the sudden break in Beyond’s laughter and stopped massaging Light’s shoulders, grateful when L’s hands replaced her own so that their sudden stillness was ignored by the investigators. Beyond left the chair arm, leaning in to her ear.

“I’m going to speak to the Shinigami,” he told her in a whisper. “It’s realised I can see it.”

“Be careful,” she murmured back, knowing that there would be no point arguing. He nodded, moving quickly to another room, presumably followed by or following the Death God.

If Light realised that the two had left together, he certainly didn’t show it, too focused on squirming away from L and arguing with him. They had managed to end up quite tangled, with L’s back now against the chair and Light over him but unable to separate as L was restraining Light in place with his legs. Light held L’s arms down on the armrests, preventing him from touching or massaging. The detective’s wide eyes and parted lips betrayed his desire in that moment, whilst Light simply looked furious.

Furious, and a little dominating, and more aroused than he would allow to show. Misora saw it in him, in the lack of tension that should have held in the line of his jaw with anger, and more obviously in the filling of the front of his professional looking trousers. She cursed Beyond that she would even think to look there first in such a situation.

“Nope,” she quickly stepped between the taskforce and the young men as they went to go to Light’s aid. “Only players on the pitch.”

Maybe she should have used an analogy for a sport that was bigger in Japan, since the largest of the men, Mogi, outright ignored her. It was really a shame for him that she was so quick and he was so large; she spun low to the ground, knocking his legs out from under him, and barely needed any force at all to shove him backward stumbling until he landed in a heap on the couch.

“Get off… me,” L teased, delighted as Light tried to disentangle their legs but ended up revealing the clear outline in his trousers to the detective’s view.

“I’m trying,” Light snarled, struggling harder.

“To get off or to _get off_?” Misora added to the conversation, leaning around to grin right in Light’s face. He had to let go of one of L’s wrists as he tried to punch her, and she skipped away, laughing as she spied L’s now freed hand pressing to the young man’s crotch.

A stillness came over the pair then, their wide eyes meeting; Light’s shocked, L’s intense, searching.

“I suppose you’re going to increase my Kira percentage?” Light huffed, displacing his sexual frustration and simultaneously attempting to deny it.

“Yes, it’s more like _sixty nine_ percent now,” the detective’s tone mimicked Beyond’s most sinful, and she had to bite her lip as she watched them to stop herself laughing, trying to maintain the silence that had fallen in the room.

“You’re disgusting,” Light grimaced, struggling again. L’s fingers curled, and he stilled once more. “Get off me.”

“Right words,” L agreed, “wrong order.”

“Okay, okay,” Misora finally allowed herself to laugh and to intervene as Light began to look properly distressed. “L, let him go.”

“Ryuga,” Light and L both corrected her simultaneously.

“Yeah, like that matters when Kira’s the one correcting me,” she rolled her eyes. “The fun’s over, it’s getting weird now.”

As L effortlessly untangled his legs from Light’s and allowed the younger man to get up, though he was pouting, Misora realised that the detective must truly have learned everything he knew about flirting from Beyond Birthday. The last months, the time he had watched them interact in the prison… they were a case study in how to form a relationship.

They were a terrible example.

But if that was all he had to go on, she expected that there would be more of these inappropriate (but amusing) displays before any relationship may or may not form.

Perhaps she should sit him down and go through proper dating etiquette?

Was there proper dating etiquette when a mass murderer was involved?

Perhaps this was it.

“I’m not Kira,” Light protested, but there had been an extremely long delay, and now the denial only made him sound more guilty; even the other members of the taskforce refocused on him.

“Where’s Ryuzaki?” Matsuda of all people was the one to finally realise that Beyond was gone and blurted it out before Misora could re-direct. Light’s head spun as he looked around the room, clearly realising that her burned companion was not the only one who was missing.

“It’s fine,” she reassured Matsuda, but she directed it to Light, who held very still, as if trying to decide his next move. A rabbit in the headlights, trapped.

Time to remove the headlights, then, because if he thought he was in danger he would react like anyone, animal or human, and lash out. With the way the team had surrounded the chair, there was no way for him to physically escape the circle, and so she moved aside, letting him storm through to the bathroom but following directly after, blocking the door from closing with her foot as he tried to slam it.

“Ouch,” she complained loudly, pushing the door open. “Was that really necessary?”

“What’s going on?” he demanded as she slipped inside with him, closing and locking the door behind her. “Where’s Ryuzaki and what the hell was that?”

“L likes you,” she told him with a sweet smile. “And you like him, clearly.”

“I don’t…”

“Oh, don’t be silly, you’ve been winding him up all morning,” she pointed out. “It’s sweet, really. Not to mention that hard on you’re sporting was definitely not for Ryuzaki.”

“Maybe it was for you?” Light’s eyes flashed with warning. “You were the one rubbing my shoulders.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” she rolled her eyes. “believe me, no one’s judging. Well, from what I’ve heard your dad might, but that’s a whole other bridge to cross later.”

“L thinks I’m Kira,” Light pointed out bitterly.

“Well, you are Kira,” she shrugged.

“I’m not Kira,” he repeated by rote. “Where’s Ryuzaki?”

Changing the subject; never mind. There was time for that conversation at another time. But, if he wasn’t going to talk about what she wanted to talk about…

“He nipped out for a few minutes,” she shrugged. “He’ll be back by now.”

“Who are you both?” he questioned. “Where did Ryuga find you?”

“Can’t tell _you_ that, sweetie pie,” she was channelling Beyond since the arrival of Kira in the building. There was something about this boy, something about Kira that made her want to hide her personality as well as her name. “Just... don’t do anything rash, okay? We’re all on the same side.”

“Of course we are, against Kira,” Light insisted.

“If you insist,” she smiled sweetly, leaving him to his own devices in the bathroom. She suspected he might be a while. “Remember, if any of us die today, it’ll be obvious that you’re Kira.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wiki definition if anyone needs it; A homunculus (/hoʊˈmʌŋkjʊləs/; Latin for "little man") is a representation of a small human being. Popularized in sixteenth-century alchemy and nineteenth-century fiction, it has historically referred to the creation of a miniature, fully formed human.


	17. Chapter 17

Misora was relieved to see Beyond Birthday in the sitting room again when she returned, unscathed by the Shinigami he could supposedly see. It wasn’t that she wanted to doubt him, and he certainly sounded honest, but really? She was meant to believe that?

It would certainly take some getting used to.

“Well?” she asked, curling up in his open arms on the couch.

“He won’t cause us any bother,” he murmured quietly into her ear, his expression and a wandering hand suggesting to the others a very different topic of muted conversation so that they wouldn’t try to listen in. “Actually, I think we might get along very well. He’s more interested in amusement than anything else. Amusement and apples.”

“And us helping L to pursue a relationship with Light will amuse him?”

“It seems so,” Beyond explained. “He’s interested in human behaviour at its extremes – love and hate, and he likes the conflict between the two of them. We talked a while, and it seems he’s quite interested in seeing Light succeed or fail, so long as it happens in an interesting way. He won’t help Kira or act against him so long as he’s not bored.”

“Well, that’s handy,” she frowned. “What about if he gets bored?”

“Then he’ll kill Light, and anyone who’s boring him,” he sounded so very casual. “But I don’t think we actually have to worry much about that. Short of putting Light in a prison cell, anyway. From what he was saying, the Shinigami realm is shit, and he doesn’t want to have to go back there. Besides, Shinigami live pretty much forever, so even a few years of a quieter life wouldn’t be enough to get him really bored.”

“Maybe you should get L to show him some of the footage from our meetings,” she suggested jokingly. “He wouldn’t think prison had to be so boring then.”

“No, then he’d probably want us to catch Kira just so we could make him act it out,” Beyond chuckled. “How’d it go with Kira?”

“He’s definitely _interested_ ,” she tried to mimic Beyond’s eyebrow waggle, but was sure it lost some of the creepy effect simply because she actually had proper eyebrows. “Nearly outed himself as Kira though, even Matsuda was looking at him sideways.”

“Well, that might not be a bad thing,” Beyond reasoned. “If he knows that L knows and L knows that Light knows he knows then when L does something that shows he knows Light won’t freak out because he knows L knows he knows he knows.”

“Shit, is it bad that I understood that?” she groaned, scowling at Beyond. “You could just say it’ll be easier if Light outs himself?

“Where’s the fun in that?” he teased, so she punched him in the arm.

“This is serious, we’ve got a job to do.”

“The entirely serious job of making sure L is screwed,” he reminded her.

“Yes,” she huffed. “Isn’t that what you’ve been trying to do for years?”

“Different kind of screwed,” he complained. “Although, maybe I can make that work too?”

“Oh no,” she sighed as she could see him thinking as clearly as if cogs were actually whirring. “Please try not to kill him?”

“As boring as that request is, that actually wasn’t my intention,” he agreed. “You know, right now the main barrier isn’t Ryuk – that’s the Shinigami’s name, by the way – or even Kira, it’s the taskforce and worse, daddy dearest.”

“True,” she considered the chief, a distant but very real potential issue. “I wonder whether he even knew his son was gay?”

“Probably not,” Beyond shrugged. “That kid’s first language is lying, he’s probably planned to marry and have kids and pretend just so that he looks all old-time stereotypically perfect. Even if he was going to come out, he probably didn’t intend to come out for froggy man over there.”

“Yeah, unexpected attraction’s a bummer,” she shifted against her own inappropriate lover, grinning as she felt his half hard cock pressed against the curve of her arse. “I think we need to give them a chance to interact without the taskforce keeping an eye on them all the time.”

Beyond was quiet for a few moments, considering. “I think I have just the thing.”

* * *

 

By evening the task force were getting into the lift to leave, and Beyond still hadn’t done anything to get Light and L to have some alone time. Misora was starting to worry, but those fears were fruitless as the chaotic man took his opportunity when L and Light were close enough together to jump onto L’s curved back and slap a handcuff onto the detective’s wrist, flip over his bending back and snap a second onto Kira’s.

“Hey!” L exclaimed, whilst Light settled for a rather less than his usual perfection with “What the hell Ryuzaki!”

“Oops,” Beyond grinned, rushing away from them as they both moved simultaneously to attack him, L’s foot barely missing his chest as Light’s fist nearly collided with his jaw.

“Let us out of these now,” Light’s tone was low and threatening and Beyond giggled at him.

“Nope,” he had taken up a position on all fours close to Misora, looking quite ready to crawl around the floor as he had in his own case. She realised that this was perhaps his most comfortable position, ready for a fight – or was he just leaning down so that he could duck behind her if the boys attacked and expect her to deal with them? That seemed like just the sort of thing he would definitely do.

“B,” L growled, the letter a threat.

“Ooh, scary, real name me I dare ya,” Beyond still giggled even though Misora’s heart skipped a beat. L wouldn’t put Beyond in that sort of danger, would he? All he was trying to do was help in his own ridiculous way.

“B?” Kira picked up on it of course and latched on. “Of course, he’s too like you for him not to be another weird detective.”

“Hey!” Beyond and L both exclaimed simultaneously. “He is _not_ like me.”

“Boys,” Misora sighed, “How about we talk about this like mature adults?”

“He handcuffed us together!” Light exclaimed, holding up his wrist as if she hadn’t noticed.

“Why, Ryuzaki?” L complained, his tone whining.

“Oh, it just felt like the sort of thing you would do,” Beyond pointed to L, whose shirt continued to be emblazoned with the words ‘homunculus of homosexuality’. He had tried to change it but eventually only ended up with one that made the words more obvious rather than less. Having realised he wouldn’t be able to find a top without the words, he had taken the permanent marker and drawn a singular arrow beneath the words so that it would point directly to Light from where he habitually sat.

“I would never do something like this!” L vehemently denied. “It’s a complete human rights violation.”

“Yeah, like you’ve ever cared about those,” Beyond laughed.

“They’re important!”

“When they suit you,” Beyond stood, seeming to consider himself safe from attack, lifted the handcuff key, put it to his lips and swallowed it down whole. “There, now you have, ooh I’d say at least two days to work out your differences.”

“We could just get Watari to cut us loose,” L pointed out.

“Nah, you won’t, you’re going to enjoy this I bet,” he waggled his eyebrows. “Besides, I have big plans for those handcuffs when you’re through with them, I will be very angry if you break them before I get a chance to play.”

He wrapped a long arm around Misora’s middle, and she resisted the temptation to frown at him or scold him.

“Of course, if the Kira killings unexpectedly stop that might be a problem for you,” he told Light. “Wouldn’t want the rest of the taskforce to get suspicious, would you?”

“I’m _not_ Kira!”

“Well you can keep saying that as much as you like, one day it might even make it true,” Beyond shrugged. “Or you can admit it, put yourself in a better position to negotiate with L, and work on what other _positions_ you’re needing practice with, pretty boy.”

“He’s not wrong, Light-kun,” L argued, looking up at Light with wide pleading eyes.

“Oh dear Lord,” Light groaned. By this point Misora was surprised that he was still so stubbornly holding out on this; surely he could see by now that there was no way of escaping this? It was very obvious that they all knew he was Kira, and the fact that they hadn’t just arrested him and thrown away the key – well, the cell key anyway, forget the handcuff one – should show that they were willing to work with him on this.

He was a sore loser, she acknowledged. He knew he was beat, he just didn’t want to have to admit it. He was fighting tooth and nail to try to claw himself out of this situation.

The sooner he realised it wouldn’t work the better.

“You can’t keep me here!” Light rounded on L, recognising he was fighting a losing battle against Beyond. “If I don’t visit dad in hospital he’ll worry himself and that’ll just put more strain on his heart!”

“He had a heart attack?” Beyond asked, confused. L shot him a look that told him to shut up. Misora caught it, but Beyond ignored it. “But it can’t have been Kira or he would be dead. Doesn’t it seem like too much of a coincidence…”

L waved his hands behind Light, trying to get Beyond’s attention and stop him talking. Misora scowled at him but stomped on Beyond’s toes so that he would pay attention.

“Fuck, Naomi, what the hell was that for?” he rounded on her whilst she continued to focus on L.

“Care to explain?”

“…well, it wasn’t actually a heart attack,” L shifted, sheepish. “I may have had Watari put something in his tea?”

“What?” Light rounded on him. “The doctors said it was a heart attack!”

“I may also have bribed the hospital,” L shrugged. “They’re getting a new MRI scanner. The chief will be fine…”

“What did you do to him?”

“I needed to see how you would react if you thought he’d been struck down by Kira,” L reasoned. “I needed to be sure.”

“So you gave him a heart attack?” Light’s hands were balled into fists, ready to punch.

“A _fake_ heart attack.”

“Hey,” Beyond stepped between them, grinning broadly at Light. “So, if daddy dearest didn’t have a heart attack you don’t need to worry so much. Naomi and I can go tell him what L did and give you two some… quality alone time.”

He winked, grabbing the handcuff chain and pulling so that Light and L crashed together in a tangle of limbs.

“Don’t!” Light exclaimed, once again struggling to get up from the floor as L’s long legs tangled with his. “You two _will_ give him a heart attack!”

“Oh, fine,” Beyond huffed. “We’ll just go for a ride instead. Naomi, feeling like running some red lights?”

She stepped into his waiting arms, smiling.

“ _If_ you wear the helmet,” she bargained, ignoring his complaints as they gathered their leathers and left the two young men alone and handcuffed together.

* * *

 

“Do you think he’ll be alive when we get back?” she asked as they got onto the motorcycle.

“L or Kira?”

“Either of them?”

“Alive, yes,” Beyond considered. “Uninjured? Absolutely not.”

“Handcuffing them together may not have been the best plan,” she scolded. “But it will give them chance to talk I suppose.”

“Yeah, _talk_ ,” Beyond laughed. “That’s definitely all they’ll be doing.”

“Light won’t…”

“I’m fairly sure L will be pretty insistent,” he grinned, “and besides, Ryuk promised to make sure Light believes that L knows…”

“Don’t start another string of that,” she stopped him. “So you’re just assuming that if Light believes that L knows he’s Kira he’ll jump into bed with him… why?”

“To manipulate him, and because he’ll see that it’s the best way to ensure his own survival,” Beyond shrugged. “It’s blackmail material if nothing else.”

“I don’t think it’ll work,” she told him, checking that his helmet had actually been secured and with a roll of her eyes doing it herself. “Where shall we go?”

“Shopping!” Beyond bounced like a child on the back of the motorcycle. “There’s this shop about a mile away that sells the _best_ Sakura Cherry Blossom Jam, and you have to try the Wagashi over there too…”

Misora tuned out the long list of sweets that he began to spout, thinking again how many characteristics he and L shared but holding her tongue rather than upsetting him about that. She fired up the motorcycle and pulled away, slowly, cringing as he threw his arms out to the sides, wrapped his legs around her waist and leaned back so that the helmet was almost touching the back wheel.

She applied the brakes, glaring at him through the visor.

“Can we try that again?” she demanded fiercely as he laughed.

“Yes, mom,” he whined, sitting up and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“I swear, you’re going to be the death of me,” she grumbled back.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see the aftermath of L & Light being handcuffed together (because L would never do that Beyond, honestly!)

When Misora and Beyond arrived back at the hotel in the early hours, Beyond slightly tipsy and singing his own dirty version of “I’m a little teapot” as if he was set on a repeating loop, they found L and Light sat side by side on the couch, both battered and bruised. L had a black eye and a swollen jaw, whilst Light’s forehead sported a heel print of bruising and several more footprints scattered his chest, which was half bared by his quite shredded shirt, sans buttons.

“Looks like someone had fuuun!” Beyond beamed, slightly uneven as he rushed across and tried to sit himself between the two, only to be stopped by a synchronised movement from both of them to push him onto the floor. L pinned Beyond with his feet, smiling sweetly at Light as Beyond struggled. “Naomi, help me!”

Misora laughed as Beyond struggled his way free and scrambled on all fours to the other side of the seating area, glaring at the two men on the couch.

“You’re getting along, I see,” she noted, ignoring Beyond and taking a seat opposite them.

“We have reached an… understanding,” Light allowed, also thoroughly ignoring L as the detective wrapped an arm around his shoulders and snuggled in to his neck.

“Never heard it called that before,” Beyond laughed, crawling up onto the chair with Misora and perching on the arm.

“Hush, you,” she scolded, shuffling forwards so that he could drape himself around her. “How much of an understanding?”

“We haven’t worked out the details yet,” Light glanced to L, who reluctantly sat up and focused.

“Kira never intended to kill innocent people, and now he won’t have to,” L explained. “We need to get rid of the task force – non-lethally, Ryuzaki.”

Beyond had perked up at the suggestion of getting rid of them, but now sank back deeper into the chair and crossed his arms around Misora’s chest, huffing.

“If we can somehow show that Light must be innocent, we can get the task force to stop investigation into Kira, or at least into Light. The easiest way would be to re-direct the case so that it looks like Kira has moved out of the country,” L explained.

“How do you plan to do that?”

“Like Light-kun said, we haven’t worked out the details yet,” L blushed.

“You’ve been alone for eight hours?” she nudged Beyond, thinking he would want to make fun of their distraction, but he had focused on thin air beside Light.

“I’m sorry it was boring,” he spoke after a moment’s silence, making Light jump. Misora scowled; it could have been useful to withhold that Beyond could see and speak to the Shinigami, but it seemed a tipsy Beyond was one that didn’t make strategic judgements. Although, perhaps it was more strategic than it seemed, because L was now looking suspiciously into the empty space. “If it helps, you can come to our room whenever they kick you out?”

“No, it can’t!” she yelped, horrified. It didn’t take a genius to work out what he was suggesting.

“Just to watch, darling, and you can’t see him anyway, he won’t distract you,” Beyond kissed her neck.

“I don’t care,” she growled. “That’s freaky not kinky, Bey…”

“Ryuzaki,” he scolded.

“L may have already let slip that you’re actually Beyond Birthday,” Light admitted. “There’s no point trying to hide behind another alias.”

“When did he do that I wonder?” Beyond grumbled, glaring at the detective.

“It’s not my fault, he tortured it out of me!” L exclaimed.

“Sure, tortured,” Beyond sounded sceptical. “What did he do?”

“Nope, not discussing this!” Light argued as L answered, “he wouldn’t let me come!”

“You know,” Misora decided as Light flushed and swung a fist for L’s jaw. “I think we should all get some sleep.”

“Of course darling, _sleep_ ,” Beyond purred, letting her get up from the chair only to rush ahead of her through to the bedroom. She lingered, waiting a moment to make sure L and Light weren’t actually going to hurt one another, but left quickly when their grappling turned into necking instead.

“They’re gross,” she complained as she joined Beyond in their bedroom, closing and locking the door behind her.

“Like we can talk,” he grinned, pulling the pillows off the bed.

“Sleeping underneath again?”

“It’s romantic,” he argued, a little too sharply. She frowned at his back, wrapping her arms around him with her chin on his shoulder as he fell still, leaning back against her.

“There were cameras in the prison,” he told her softly. “And in the orphanage. There are probably cameras in here too.”

“You don’t mind being watched,” she pointed out.

“When I’m awake,” he agreed. “When I’m asleep it makes me feel…”

“Vulnerable?” she finished for him when he couldn’t find the word, and he nodded slowly. “That’s okay, we can stay under the bed.”

Beyond nodded, going back to removing the covers.

“When you’re ready, I’m going to shower,” she smiled, but hesitated in the doorway. “Beyond?”

“Yes darling?”

“Is Ryuk here?”

“Ah…” Beyond looked a little guilty, glancing to the corner. “No…”

“Ryuk, if you want the bed when we’re actually sleeping, that’s not a problem since the boys have kicked you out, but don’t you dare follow us in here,” she offered generously to the Death God she couldn’t see, winking at Beyond as she left the bathroom door open invitingly.

It seemed a tipsy Beyond was not a sexual Beyond, though he did coax her own pleasure whilst they showered, and she applied his creams with dedicated care and attention.

“Beyond?” she murmured once they were curled up together under the bed, the mattress dipping just a little above them under what appeared to be a large but light weight figure.

“What is it?” he questioned the hint of concern in her tone.

“You keep calling me darling,” she noted softly. He frowned at her in the near darkness. Outside the sun had already started to rise.

“I like it,” he noted, “would you like me to stop?”

“No, I just…” she hesitated. He had always used pet names for her, but they had always been different, and casual. This… was different. This felt genuine, real. Affectionate. Like he meant it. “When this is over, when L pays me off and designates me your keeper in the eyes of the law, won’t you resent me?”

“Darling,” he spoke the word tentatively. “L’s giving me to you to look after.”

“Exactly…” she began, but he stopped her with a finger to her lips, leaning over her.

“In sickness or in health?” he suggested quietly, and her eyes widened at the suggestion. “For richer or poorer – okay he’s paying you shit loads, so it’s richer – and it’s a life sentence, so it’s until death parts us… and you’re questioning me calling you darling?”

“…I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this,” she breathed when he removed his finger from her lips.

“Well you’d best start thinking about it,” Beyond sighed, turning back onto his back beside her. “That’s L’s plan. I’m okay with it, if that helps you any.”

She stared at him, his expression hidden in the shadows.

“I fully expect he will pay at least some of your salary in an envelope with a mizuhiki,” she could almost hear the grin. “Are you freaking out?”

No, she absolutely was _not_ freaking out… sure, she was breathing more quickly, and her heart was pounding like a heavy metal drummer, and she couldn’t force her tightly wound muscles to relax, and her chest felt tight…

But she had only just left a long-term relationship, and she had been having weird flirting with Beyond for nearly two years but they had only been in any way together in an official sense for less than two days, and here he was pointing out that L intended for them to be practically married.

Why would that freak her out?

“Yes, a little,” she admitted, her voice a squeak.

“You know, that’s why I wanted to warn you,” Beyond turned to her, smoothing her hair back. “Breathe, Naomi...”

He took some deep breaths with her until she was at least a little calmer.

“It’s L’s plan, not mine,” he soothed. “It’s my chance… to be free of the prison, to have a life that doesn’t involve chasing down L. But it’s your life I’d be invading, darling, and it’s your choice to make. Say the word and I go back to my cell. Although, I hope you would visit?”

Misora’s heart went out to him, to even make such an offer when to do so he would risk so much. When L spoke in their negotiations of releasing Beyond from prison and into her care, she hadn’t considered all that it would mean for her. All that she would lose. All that she would gain.

“Of course I would,” she promised, leaning up to gently kiss him. He nodded silently, settling down to the floor again, and she was tempted into turning onto her side and resting her head on his chest.

* * *

 

The Kira taskforce were gathered in the living room and waiting expectantly for the doctors to clear Chief Yagami as medically fit for discharge, his heart attack declared a false alarm but given some advice about his lifestyle that would do him no harm even if he was still healthy. L had arranged this shortly before the others arrived, having been rather preoccupied up to that point.

Beyond had borrowed some make up from Misora to cover both L and Light’s bruises, though there was not a shade pale enough for L and he ended up looking like he was deliberately hiding something. Beyond had taken the opportunity to take advantage and had L wash away the foundation to replace it with a face painting to turn his face into that of an owl, complete with his huge wide eyes. Beyond had even found a handful of strange, straggly black feathers somewhere which he had wound into L’s hair.

Watari had finally emerged from his room that morning, holding himself with his usual quiet and dignity but glaring in turn at Beyond and Misora. Neither of them were sure whether it was because of the porn, being held in customs cells for a day, or the fact that he had tried to bleach the pink out of his dyed hair and the result was to turn it pumpkin orange – with persistently pink eyebrows to boot.

He had passed round boxes of donuts for breakfast, but not to Beyond or Misora, and she had thought there might be a problem until Beyond went to perch on the arm of L’s chair. L would lick all the sugar frosting from the outside of the donut and then pass it to Beyond, who would break it in two and lick the jam from it with his weirdly long tongue before handing it back for L to finish.

“That’s disgusting,” Light grumbled beside them, having eaten one of his three donuts and had the other two stolen by L.

“I have to agree,” Misora added, “There’s stacks of jam in the fridge.”

“No, there’s not,” Beyond pouted. Misora looked accusingly to Watari, who pointedly ignored her. “Would you make some?”

From the way the task force all focused on her they expected her to argue, and she understood why. She had hardly been the image of domesticity since she had come to Japan, but really jam was important to Beyond and she had said when they arrived that she would make him some. Since L ate a huge number of strawberries and sugar she had seen all the ingredients she would need for some basic jam in the kitchen, not that it would be perfect without proper jam sugar but she wouldn’t trust Watari to get any other ingredients just now. With a kiss to the tip of Beyond’s nose, to avoid his donut-jam covered lips, she set to work searching the kitchen for a large enough pan.

“You know, you could just have dyed your hair darker,” she pointed out to Watari. “Easier than going back grey.”

The old man didn’t look up, just sat eating his own donut and watching L expressionlessly. She suspected he disapproved of the detective allowing Beyond to eat his jam.

“How long are we going to sit here and ignore that Light and Ryuga are handcuffed together?” Matsuda was the first one to speak up on the topic.

“Ah, feel free to call me L,” the detective corrected. “So long as we’re in headquarters at least.”

“But I thought…”

“I no longer believe we have anything to fear from Light-kun,” he expanded. “He remained behind last night and permitted me to question him, with the aid of my special consultants.”

“So Light’s been cleared?” Matsuda lit up. “He’s really not Kira? You’re sure?”

“Hey,” Light grumbled.

“Not that I ever thought…” Matsuda stuttered. “I mean, of course we all knew you couldn’t be Kira, but L kept saying…”

“I am quite certain of my conclusions,” L interrupted firmly.

“Well that’s fantastic!” Matsuda beamed, completely missing that L had not once actually said that he didn’t think Light was Kira. “But… then why are you handcuffed together?”

“It’s kinky,” Beyond giggled. Matsuda gawped at him, then shook his head - not a denial, but as if trying to shed an unwanted mental image.

“What’s the real answer?” he demanded.

“Actually,” L’s eyes were on the ground, awkward, but he was smiling, “that’s pretty much it.”

Light’s eyes narrowed and his fist clenched, looking like he was considering punching L again. He relaxed the fingers slowly.

“I thought we were going to talk to my dad first?” he managed between gritted teeth.

“We didn’t talk to _my_ dad,” L complained, hugging his knees to his chest.

“You’re an orphan,” Light pointed out. L stared at him silently, unblinking.

“That was cruel Light,” Misora scolded in mock seriousness.

“Why do you hurt him if you love him so much?” Beyond launched himself at L to give him a hug, wiping at his cheeks as if getting rid of tears but only succeeding in smudging the owl face paint. “You don’t just remind people that they’re orphans.”

Light looked helplessly to the task force, casting his hands in the air.

“Any help?”

The silence that lingered in the room was awkward, enough that they turned on the television and flicked to the news. None of them had been keeping up on world events out with the Kira case so this was a rare opportunity to catch up.

“I am Kira.”

Everyone in the room jolted as if electrocuted, startling to focus on the television set. Misora dropped her metal spoon, clanking into the pot of heating sugar and strawberry mixture.

“If this video is being aired at 9am as requested…”

“Turn the volume up,” Beyond demanded, throwing himself at the base of the television. Misora rushed closer too, grabbing his arm and pulling him away so that the others could see.

“This isn’t possible,” he murmured to her, glancing at Light.

“There must be…”

“A second Kira,” they whispered together.

A second Kira who was killing on live television. A second Kira who made demands of the public and claimed the title of the first. Misora looked to Light, concerned, and was glad that she was the only one looking. His perfect mask was slipping and he looked furious, positively bloodthirsty.

“Darling, I think I like _him_ too,” Beyond confessed to her. “Sorry.”

She ignored him, prioritising the broadcast. A new world, free of evil? How… idealistic. Naive. She wondered if Light thought of what he was doing as Kira that way; he didn’t seem so foolish, but then why else would he be doing it?

“Shouldn’t we be trying to stop this broadcast?” Matsuda demanded, agitated.

“…No,” Light spoke slowly, reluctant to be the one to speak first. “Kira might say something that gives him away.”

Oh, but this was perfect. She wondered if L could see it, if he would make the connection. He was a genius, surely he would, but then he might get caught up with the thoughts of catching this Kira. This was the opportunity that would make it so much easier for them to disband the taskforce; catch this Kira, and then they could leave Japan and the taskforce behind.

Oh, there would still be Kira. No doubt Light wouldn’t give up just because he saw an easy way out. He was Kira, the first and the only, and besides Misora was quite sure L had no interest in stopping him. She had really tried not to reflect on her own thoughts on the matter since she was sure she would have no influence to change things. But Kira could operate from anywhere in the world, as could L.

By the end of the broadcast the false Kira had demanded that the police work with him and give their answer soon. It was this that would provide the perfect opportunity, Misora thought, for some sort of plan. Which she would leave to L, and maybe Beyond and Light. Not because she was female or inadequate in any way, but because she trusted them to find the best possible options and her skills were involved in catching criminals rather than entrapment of them whilst clearing the names of others.

“Kira has made a mistake,” L spoke emotionlessly once the broadcast was over. “We need to get those tapes and work out how to reply.”

“Reply?” Light looked puzzled.

“Reply,” Beyond grinned. “but not from the police, huh, L?”

“Of course not,” L smiled sweetly back. “From a rival Kira.”

“What?” Matsuda couldn’t keep up. Nor could the rest of the task force, but it was Matsuda who spoke.

“I believe that there may be more than one Kira,” L told them. “I had been focusing on Light because he was the most intelligent suspect and the most likely to be capable of single handedly evading the investigation. However, there is no way in which Light could have been the one to arrange these tapes. It simply isn’t something he would do as Kira. Therefore, we could deduce that the way Kira is confusing investigators is by not being one person at all, but a group.”

Misora noted the careful phrasing; L had managed to call Light intelligent and give some very convincing reasoning without ever saying that Light wasn’t actually Kira.

“This Kira appears to be less intelligent than the one we have been facing before. We should be able to catch this one, and then if this Kira knows the identity of the other Kira or Kiras we might be able to catch them too.”

“How many could there be?” Matsuda looked a little frightened.

“We can only assume that there are at least two,” L considered carefully. “There is at least one that kills only the guilty, and this Kira who will kill innocents to prove a point.”

“And are they all in Japan?” she added to the questioning, trying to maintain a concerned expression rather than smile at L.

“We can only conclude that the Kira who is happy to kill innocents is in Japan, because of the death of Lind L. Taylor and the FBI investigators,” L allowed. “There could be Kiras scattered all over the world.”

“So we have to focus on this Kira and forget the rest for now,” she reasoned.

“Not forget them,” L argued. “Only target our investigation on this Kira.”

“So if there are more Kiras, we can use a reply from another Kira to create a trap for this one?” Light reasoned. “We would have to make it believable.”

“I agree,” L looked up at him with wide staring eyes. “That’s why you have to do it.”

“I thought we agreed that I’m not Kira?” Light grumbled convincingly.

“You are the only one who thinks like Kira,” L suggested. “The rest of us can help you.”

“Alright,” Light agreed.

“Watari, the chief will be on his way from the hospital shortly – give him a call and get him to collect the Kira tape on the way,” L requested. “Make sure he wears some form of helmet that covers his face in case this Kira already has his name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB Just in case it’s a sticking point for anyone, I’m aware that the first Kira tape was aired at 6pm, but I wanted to move the story on a little (it was meant to be a short story honest, but B got away from me and it's actually longer than Death Note: Another Note which is obviously the source material) and who knows what other chaos Beyond would cause in a whole other day so we’re having Misa’s Kira tape on the morning news not the evening.
> 
> I mention a mizuhiki above. For anyone not familiar with Japan, mizuhiki are used for various things. In this context it's a specially tied cord around an envelope containing money, traditional as a wedding gift.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chief gets out of the hospital. Beyond reveals another of Kira's secrets. Snack stigma.

“A lot has happened in two days,” the police chief sighed after he was given a full update on the Kira case by the taskforce whilst L and Light worked on their reply. “Light?”

“Yes dad?” the young man left his task to sit with the rest of the team, L’s following obligatory.

“I am glad that you are not Kira,” he smiled. “But… why on earth are you handcuffed to Ryuga?”

“We can call him L now, dad,” Light took his father’s offered hands, sitting beside him on the sofa.

“It’s…” Beyond started to say, but Misora sharply elbowed him in the stomach so that he doubled over and couldn’t tell the police chief that they were handcuffed together for sexual reasons.

“They’re handcuffed together because Ryuzaki has locked them together and swallowed the key,” she explained whilst he was incapacitated.

“Would Ryuzaki also be the reason Watari has orange hair under his hat and L is covered in face paint?”

“Pretty much,” she shrugged.

“It seems to me that Ryuzaki is a menace,” the chief grumbled, looking at him suspiciously.

“Oh he is,” she laughed, leaning back into her menace’s chest, “but then so’s L, and we put up with him.”

“Reluctantly,” the chief admitted. “But he is the world’s greatest detective. Who’s Ryuzaki?”

Beyond paused with fingers covered in Misora’s still hot homemade jam halfway to his lips, focusing an unblinking and rather dangerous look on the chief.

“First, it is rude to talk about someone rather than to them,” he sounded calm and rational enough to worry Misora, enough that she thought it might just be best to distract him by taking hold of his wrist and sucking the jam from his fingers. Beyond paused, his death glare at the chief broken as he watched her tongue flick out and lick a few drops that had escaped.

“Ryuzaki is like L, dad,” Light told him.

“We are not alike!” the two chorused angrily, Beyond’s lip curling in a sneer.

“You’re far worse,” Misora placated him. “You’re far more of a freak than L.”

“Too right,” he agreed, clutching her tightly to him.

“Do you not have any other keys that would fit those handcuffs?” the chief pressed. “I thought they all had to be standard issue?”

“They do,” Beyond grinned, “your son just assumed mine must be special ones.”

“So I could have unfastened these all along?” Light grumbled, taking Matsuda’s key set before he could stop him and unlocking his cuff. “You know, I think I may actually hate you, Beyond Birthday.”

“Ooh, real naming me isn’t so scary now you’re not Kira,” Beyond blustered.

“Beyond Birthday?” the chief reflected. “Where have I heard that name before?”

“Oh, Matsuda, don’t look him up…” Misora tried too late as she spotted the young detective searching on the police database.

“Rue Ryuzaki, also known as Beyond Birthday…” he gasped. “He’s a serial killer!”

“Multiple murderer,” Beyond grumbled.

“Actually, I checked the FBI definition,” Misora told him quietly. “they only need two for it to count, and they even include attention seeking as one of the likely motives.”

“I was not attention seeking,” he denied.

“Liar,” she giggled. It did feel strange to be so casual about the topic of the very real murders he had committed, but if she didn’t compartmentalise she couldn’t cope with their odd relationship.

“You’ve brought a serial killer here?” the chief was on his feet, looking torn between moving to restrain Beyond and challenging L. Not that Beyond needed restraining, having just spread jam on Misora’s neck and trying to lick it off as she slapped him away, protesting about the public display. “What were you thinking?”

“Fight fire with fire?” L lied.

“And Shinigami eyes,” Beyond added.

“And what?” L and the chief both asked.

“My eyes,” Beyond pointed his second and third fingers at his eyes, close enough to almost touch. “I can see who Kira is for you.”

“How?” they all demanded with various degrees of urgency.

“I can’t see Light’s lifespan,” he murmured quietly to Misora. To the rest of the team he answered louder, “I can tell when someone has killed someone.”

“Impossible,” the chief denied.

“We are up against a killer that can kill with just a name and face, from a distance,” L reasoned. “In that context, nothing seems unreasonable anymore.”

“So all we need to do is get this Kira to show their face in public and you can tell that they’re Kira?” Matsuda was excited.

“Yes,” Beyond agreed. “But it isn’t quite that simple. There’s a fairly good chance that the Kira might have the same ability. Their power comes from a Shinigami.”

“What evidence do you have?” Light asked, frowning at Beyond. The look in Kira’s eyes ordered him to shut up. Beyond didn’t do well with orders.

“Here,” Beyond waved a slip of paper around between pinched fingers. “Take it, darling.”

Misora reached out for the paper, eventually managing to snag it from Beyond as he kept it moving away.

“Pass it on,” he murmured in her ear.

One by one all of the detectives, including L, took the paper until it got back to Naomi. Beyond had unravelled himself from around her and gone in to the next room, from where he called.

“No one is allowed to faint. Screaming’s good,” he giggled. “Out you go!”

Misora could hardly believe her own eyes as the huge figure of a Shinigami – yes, a camp demon was a good description for it she supposed – stepped into the doorway and waved.

“Yeah, uh, hi,” it smiled, baring needle like teeth.

“And here’s Jonny!” Beyond stuck his head straight through the creature’s chest, mouth open and eyes wide in a good mimic of the Shining. The Shinigami flapped his arms as Beyond somehow turned his head one hundred and eighty degrees to look up into his face. It was difficult to be intimidated by the nearly eight-foot-tall demonic creature when it was panicking at Beyond Birthday, not that anyone could really blame it.

“That’s a real Shinigami,” L breathed, his betrayed glare at Light missed by the taskforce. “I wasn’t sure I believed you, until now of course.”

“An apology would be nice,” Beyond stepped through Ryuk, the Shinigami breathing a sigh of relief.

“So you have the same powers as Kira?” the chief accused.

“No,” Beyond giggled. “Ryuk doesn’t like me.”

“I wonder why?”

“I think it might be the burns,” Beyond rubbed at the mangled skin of his face. “I’m just not pretty enough for him. Isn’t that right, pretty boy?”

“Whatever you say, hyuk,” the Shinigami laughed.

“When did you plan this?” Misora whispered as Beyond curled back up around her.

“Stole the paper last night when I handcuffed Light to L and took his watch,” he shrugged. “The paper was in there. I just asked Ryuk to go along with anything I did.”

The taskforce and L had started to quiz Ryuk, who was very good at fending off their questions but did agree that Beyond would possibly be able to identify Kira. So much of what he did say was a lie to go along with Beyond that Misora paid very little attention most of the time.

“Why do you follow Beyond if you don’t even like him?” Matsuda asked, puzzled.

“Ah, how can I explain this to a human? Have you ever had a family member, maybe a kid, who you don’t like one bit but you have to look after them anyway because they’re related?”

“Yes,” all of them chorused except L and the chief, who glared accusingly at Light.

“I will tell Sayu you said that.”

“It’s a bit like that, hyuk” Ryuk shrugged.

“Wait, a relative?” Beyond himself questioned.

“What, did you think a Shinigami just dropped those eyes?” Ryuk laughed, low and rumbling.

“Yes.”

“Nah, looks like a family trait to me,” the Shinigami leaned in close to him. “Dear old Granny must have been a wild one.”

“Hey!” Beyond yelped. “Don’t speak about my granny like that!”

“Do you even remember your granny?” Misora questioned.

“No,” he admitted, huffing.

“Never know, that might be a family trait too,” she teased. Beyond’s eyes widened and she realised what she’d suggested. “Well, you did tell him he could watch.”

“Watch, not get involved,” he groaned. “Holy shit, Naomi, I’m not that screwed up.”

“Yes you are,” she turned and kissed his neck to soften the blow. “But thank you for trying for me.”

He huffed but didn’t try to deny it again. “Wait, Ryuk, you didn’t…”

“Well, I was going to wait until we were alone to tell you hyuk,” the Shinigami began, but his face splitting grin gave him away.

“Ryuk,” Light warned as Beyond’s hands clenched into fists.

“Ryuk if you so much as touched my granny…”

“Beyond, it’s okay, he’s joking,” Misora leaned all her weight back against him to stop him bursting out of the chair to attack the Shinigami.

“He’d better be.”

“Nah, I’m not your pops,” Ryuk laughed. “but your granny was still…”

“That’s it!” Beyond shrieked, shoving Misora out of his lap and racing for the Shinigami. She cringed as her elbow hit the coffee table; that hurt far more than it should.

“Fuck Bailey that hurt,” she grumbled, under her breath but it seemed he heard it clear as day, freezing in place, hand half reaching out for a knife from the kitchen counter. He looked round at her where she was picking herself up from the floor and returned to help.

“Sorry,” he breathed, drawing her into his arms. “I’m so sorry, darling, I didn’t think…”

“You never do,” she teased, uncomfortable with this tenderness from him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’ll try to do better, I promise…”

“Beyond,” she hissed in his ear, still disconcerted and noticing the stares from their company. “Let go now?”

He did, looking rather sheepish. “Sorry.”

“Light, I think I might go home for the day,” the chief suggested, looking utterly exhausted. “You will call me, if you make any progress?”

“See, you’ve upset the boss man,” Misora scolded, poking Beyond in the chest.

“Sorry, boss man,” Beyond hung his head in false contrition.

“It won’t be today dad, you should go rest,” Light agreed. “You don’t have to put up with these two.”

“Yes, I suppose…” he sighed heavily. “You will call though, if there is anything I can do to help?”

“I promise,” Light held a hand over his heart. “Go home and rest, you’re only just out of hospital, who knows what L dosed you with.”

“Thank you, Light,” his father’s hand lingered on his shoulder as he looked at his son, then to L and back again. Light tried to smile reassuringly, and as she watched an understanding passed between them, a silent acceptance. Of course, the chief was more socially aware than most of the people in this room, would see the massively increased closeness between the two both in proximity and emotion even with the handcuffs removed. It was only when Light moved from the sofa to sit on the arm of L’s chair, gently shoving the man to make him move over enough for him to sit too, that Matsuda began to gawp at them for example. They stayed that way long after Light’s father left, working on the announcement for the television.

“Did you just steal my potato chips?” Light grumbled as L quite obviously took the bag from the arm of the chair.

L took one of the chips, put it in his mouth and spat it out onto the floor, gagging.

“How do you eat these?” he demanded with wide eyes, pouring the bag out onto the floor.

“Hey!”

“You look more evil when you eat potato chips,” L grumbled, discarding the bag to the floor as well. Light bit his lip to stop himself letting out a bark of laughter, stifling it to a small chuckle.

“Remind me to tell you a story about that,” he suggested. “Later.”

“I knew it!” L stared at him. “No one enjoys eating _potato chips_ that much!”

Beyond, having behaved for some time by then, untangled himself from Misora and made a point of stomping the spilled potato chips into the carpet before Watari could get the vacuum.

* * *

 

The tape was recorded before the day was out, Light’s voice altered with a different filter to L’s to make it at least a little convincing that it was not coming from the police. Though the handcuffs had been unlocked, Light had lingered behind after the rest of the taskforce left and L, completing his editing of the video, had grabbed his hand and dragged him through to their bedroom, not that Light did anything to even attempt to resist.

“How soundproof do you think these walls are?” Misora wondered as they went.

“Not very,” Beyond shrugged. “Why?”

“Because is it just me of does L look like a screamer?”

“He’s very quiet most of the time…” Beyond began but paused as a loud yelp came from the bedroom corridor followed by Light’s characteristic laugh. “I see your point.”

“We should give them some time alone.”

“No,” Beyond whined. “Inspiration…”

“No, Beyond,” she laughed. “It’s creepy and off putting.”

“I’m pretty sure those are my middle names,” Beyond pointed out.

“Beyond Creepy Off Putting Birthday,” she considered. “Do you see that in the mirror?”

“Believe it enough and I might,” he raised an eyebrow. “That would be fun actually, and maybe that way if Kira writes my name he’ll get it wrong.”

“We could just take out a different room in the hotel?” she suggested patiently. “I have money now…”

“If you insist,” Beyond sighed. “make sure it has room under the bed?”

“Alright,” she laughed. “Although I don’t think L will have cameras…”

“L has cameras everywhere…”

“Well he won’t exactly be watching them,” she pointed out as a loud moan sounded in what was definitely the detective’s voice.

“Can I come with you guys?” Ryuk shuffled uncomfortably where he lounged on the other sofa, glaring daggers in the direction of the noises.

“Give us an hour sweetie?” Misora requested, surprising herself with the pet name. There was something about the Shinigami that was very… childlike? He seemed young to her, like… an unruly teenager, perhaps. She wondered, in Shinigami terms, just how old Ryuk would be. For all she knew he was actually their equivalent of a teenager.

“Two, at least,” Beyond demanded, “or you could just sleep on our bed up here?”

“Fine,” the Shinigami sighed. “I’m going to find some apples.”

Misora almost yelped as huge wings spread from his back – those definitely hadn’t been there before – and flapped out through the window glass.

“He’s not as scary as you made him sound,” she told Beyond as they set off down in the lift to reception to book a new room.

“Ah, I believe I described him as a camp as fuck, ugly as sin demon made up like a clown with a leather fetish and a love heart earring,” Beyond reminded her. “What part of that is scary to you?”

“…maybe the demon part?” she laughed, recalling his words from before and trying to reconcile that with the mental image she had made of Ryuk, which was far more frightening than the real thing. “Or the clown part?”

“You don’t like clowns?” pure mischief sparked in her lover’s eyes, and she lightly punched his shoulder.

“Don’t you dare go getting any ideas.”

“But…”

“No!” she huffed. “You’re creepy enough as it is.”

“Yes, yes I am,” he looked quite proud of that, waggling his thin eyebrows.

“Eugh, why do I put up with you?”

“Why _do_ you put up with me?”

He sounded so genuinely sad and confused that she paused and hugged him reassuringly.

“Aww, don’t be like that,” she soothed. “I love you anyway…”

She pulled away, clapping a hand over her mouth. She was quick enough to spy the spark of triumph in his eyes, just for a second before he covered it with his creepiest grin.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean…” she stammered. “I mean…”

“You looove me,” he teased, grabbing her and pulling her in for a possessive kiss. “Don’t try to deny it now, darling.”

“I don’t…”

“Aww,” he let her go, sulking. “But darling…”

“Shut up,” she huffed as the elevator finally pinged for the ground floor. She rushed out to the counter, mortified, with him following at a stalking pace.

Their new room was by no means as lavish as the top floor that L had booked all to himself, but it would serve their purpose for the night and it was one of the few that afforded Beyond’s stipulation of a bed with room underneath to sleep, though she was determined to convince him to at least start the night on top where it would be more comfortable, if she could ever get rid of her bright red blush from her earlier comment. Honestly, what had possessed her to use that word?

She was too used to saying it, she supposed, to Raye. And by the end of her relationship with Raye she had felt nothing for him, so she definitely felt more for Beyond than she had for him. It was automatic, a reflex. At least he didn’t seem to take it too seriously, and she hadn’t scared him away.

“If you love me,” he wrapped his arms around her from behind, speaking softly in her ear, “does that mean you trust me?”

“About as far as I can throw you,” she teased.

“Not far then?”

“About… this far,” she grinned, reaching behind to grasp his neck and keeping tight hold on his wrist at the front, folding herself a little at the waist and glad that he was light so that she could turn the flip into a throw, so that he landed on his back on the bed.

He was on all fours in seconds, his eyes dark and fierce, lips curled back in a snarl. Like this he looked like a monster, a creature more than a man. Like this, as he crawled forwards and perched on the edge of the bed, legs coiled to spring, he looked like a killer who would rip out her throat as soon as look at her.

“Beyond?” she backed away, just a little, instinct telling her that running would be a very bad idea. She should not give him a target to chase. “Beyond… I was playing…”

His eyes blinked, just once, and he sat back on his heels.

“Sorry,” he smiled a little, reassuring. “It’s a reflex.”

She took a deep breath, and another, settling her racing heart and the adrenaline coursing through her body.

“Where,” she demanded, still shocked. “Did _that_ become a reflex?”

“Darling, you really don’t want to know,” he still smiled, holding out a hand for her to take but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Couldn’t step closer, not whilst her legs still refused to stop shaking.

“Before the LABB killings, had you killed before?”

“Yes,” he dropped his hand. “more than once.”

“So, you really are a serial killer?” she could taste bile rising in her throat.

“Killed,” he corrected. “Not murdered. Solving cases isn’t always without its casualties, darling, even for L.”

“L never shows his face…” she began but was cut short.

“L shows his face plenty, people just don’t know it’s him.”

“…How many people have you killed?” she had to know. She looked to his fingers, stained with jam. She could not dismiss the image of blood there instead.

“Directly?” he queried. “Eleven.”

She took a steadying breath. “Beyond…”

“Oh, is that too many?” he suddenly scowled at her, moving back from the edge of the bed. “Three innocents you could deal with but eight guilty people who would have killed me or someone else if I didn’t kill them first, that’s the sticking point?”

“I…” she hesitated. Beyond looked like he was about to start sulking, and she couldn’t even think, couldn’t deal with this right now. She needed space, needed time. “Stay here tonight. I’m going upstairs…”

“Darling…”

“Don’t,” she held up her hands. “Just… don’t, Beyond.”

“Can’t we talk about this?” he tried, arranging his expression so he no longer looked like he was sulking. “Mature conversation…”

“Tomorrow,” she agreed. “Not now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryuk doesn't know how Beyond got his eyes either.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watari is wise to Beyond's manipulations.

Misora found Ryuk and Watari sat together in the living room, each eating an apple. Watari was wearing a set of large, fluffy earmuffs when she arrived, but he lifted them when she entered.

“Agent Misora,” he greeted gruffly, the title in English.

“It’s not agent anymore,” she corrected, taking a seat in L’s usual chair so that she wouldn’t have to share a chair with either Ryuk or Watari. “Besides, Naomi will do.”

“I would prefer formality,” he inclined his head respectfully. “Perhaps I could make a pot of tea?”

“Alright,” she agreed, almost despite her better judgement. The old man’s hair was still orange, his eyebrows still pink; likely he still resented her for that. The room was silent aside from Ryuk’s biting of the apples whilst he brewed a fresh pot and brought it to the table.

“This is English tea, I hope you don’t mind,” he poured the cups, hers first leaving a little room for milk. “There are many things that they do very well around the world, but for tea, my taste will always go back to home.”

“It is lovely,” she agreed having taken a sip. She was surprised by how civil he was to her, since he had been glaring at her and Beyond all day.

“What brings you back up here, and without Beyond?” Watari questioned. Misora opened her mouth to answer, and then froze.

“Oh,” she realised her mistake, getting up from the chair in a hurry. “I’m meant to be watching him…”

“Sit,” Watari instructed. “He’s not going anywhere.”

She hesitated, but she would take any excuse not to have to go back down to him tonight, and Watari had just given her a perfect one.

“We… I don’t suppose you could call it an argument. I suppose that’s what I was running away from,” she confessed with a sigh. “He still frightens me sometimes.”

“Good,” Watari looked very serious. “He should.”

“I know he’s done terrible things in the past, but… I don’t suppose I can say he’s not like that now, but he wouldn’t do it again.”

“Of course not,” the old man agreed. “He values his life and his freedom, and he knows what will happen if he finds himself on the wrong side of the law again.”

“You don’t like him much, do you?”

“I saw him grow up,” Watari explained. “I saw the sweet little boy be eaten away, and the devouring beast take its place.”

“He’s not that bad,” she defended. “Not always. He can be sweet…”

Watari laughed, a low chuckle.

“I had hoped to catch you alone since the moment I first saw you on the plane,” Watari admitted, sipping his tea. “I was concerned when L suggested that you should be sent to interview Beyond Birthday, but L is usually right about these things so I did not stop him.”

“He was,” she agreed. “I think… Beyond is different now.”

“Is he?” Watari set his tea down on its saucer with a clink. “Is he actually? How would you know?”

“I didn’t know him well before, but even compared to when I met him…”

“No.”

His blunt denial gave her pause. She sipped her tea, considering him.

“Beyond Birthday is a master at disguise and at manipulation. Nothing you see on the surface is the real him. I don’t believe what I am seeing for a second.”

“If it’s manipulation, he’s gone about it the wrong way,” she thought about the last nearly two years, the endless inappropriate flirting and general creepy behaviour.

“Consider,” Watari suggested. “In the beginning, how quickly did he have you hanging on to his every word?”

In minutes, during that first ten-minute meeting. She inclined her head, suggesting without words that he should go on.

“How long before you started to feel comfortable with him no matter how inappropriate he was with you?”

Perhaps that was the second meeting, or the third, or the fourth. It hadn’t taken long, anyway, though he would sometimes push those boundaries, expand what she could tolerate.

“When you started investigating him, you had a fairly serious long-term boyfriend I believe. What was it that led to your break up?”

“That’s not fair,” she scowled. “That was all Raye…”

But, Beyond had been the one to point out his faults. Beyond had been the one who had made her realise that she deserved more than Raye Pember.

“Alright,” Watari allowed, though he looked sceptical. “And once that relationship ended, how long before he pounced?”

“He could hardly pounce, he was in prison,” she scoffed, but she considered. Straight away after she had broken up with Raye, Beyond had started to suggest things to her. That was when she had first seen the changes in him though, too. Hell, Beyond Birthday had denied himself pleasure for a whole week at her instruction, being submissive for the first time in his life. And then s _he_ had been the one to pounce, so to speak, getting him off in that prison cell as she did.

“And when he was freed from the cell, how did you feel?”

Frightened, at first. It hadn’t lasted long. Beyond had been so nervous, and she had been so nervous too, but they had reassured each other.

“How quickly did you go from utter terror to complete submission?”

One day. Perhaps a little longer – time difference made her unclear on this – but… one day, from waiting with her heart racing and even her palms sweating in the entrance of the prison to the point where she was under a bed with him, taking him inside her and moaning his name.

“And now you’re helping L to form a relationship with Kira,” Watari reminded. “A relationship, might I add, built on a bedrock of mutual manipulation rather than affection or even trust.”

“There’s definitely an attraction there…”

“Kira is using L’s attraction to remain alive and continue as Kira. If he cares for L at all – if he cares for anyone, I would be very surprised.”

“That’s L’s choice,” she argued.

“Then consider this; in all of this time, how much has Beyond changed you? Altered you, to fit his image?”

No more than she had allowed, freely, over time and intimacy. And yet…

He was right. She wasn’t who she had been, when she had first taken on the LABB case as L’s eyes and ears. She was different now, very different.

“Does it matter?” she questioned. “I care about him, and he cares about me. Maybe we meet in the middle, maybe we both change, but in the end we’re both better for each other.”

“He doesn’t care about you,” Watari poured himself a second cup of tea. “He is using you as the means to an end. L has offered his freedom, under your watch, at the end of the case if you agree and Kira is caught. That means he needs you on board so that you can take responsibility for him, and he can get out of the cell.”

“That’s preposterous,” she laughed. “He can’t have known nearly two years ago that this would happen, that L would make this offer…”

“Perhaps they planned this together,” Watari shrugged. “Beyond and Light are not the only manipulative geniuses here.”

“No,” she thought, and frowned at Watari. “You are too, trying to turn me against Beyond like this. You don’t like him, and you want to see him go back to prison.”

“For very good reason,” he told her. “This is displacement, Miss Misora. You are frustrated, and afraid, and you want to put that on to me. I will not take it. I want you to think, carefully, about what we have said here tonight. I have warned you, and now you need to remember this conversation to move forwards.”

“Thank you Watari,” she smiled at him. “But I’m perfectly fine working things out for myself.”

“One last thing,” he interrupted before she could leave the room to go to her bed. “Now that he thinks he has you hooked, he will start to push the boundaries further, to get you used to the real him. Maybe he has already done so, and that is why you are upstairs talking to me, rather than down there letting him possess you?”

Misora wouldn’t dignify that with an answer, but she stewed over the conversation long into the night, unable to dismiss the look of triumph in her lover’s eyes when she had slipped and said ‘I love you’ in that elevator, nor the feral creature that had taken his place when she had flipped him to the bed.

* * *

 

Mature conversation, Misora mused, was difficult when the man she had come to speak with was under a bed and wrapped in every blanket he could find so that the underside of the bed looked more like a nest than anything else. It seemed oddly fitting for him, who even in sleep looked inhuman due to his burns and his thin frame; the monster under the bed.

It was also difficult when that man refused to wake up, whether she kissed him or poked him or peeled the covers away. He almost flopped back when she tugged the first one, so deeply asleep that she could remove layer after layer until he was entirely naked and bare beneath the bed.

His cock was hard, a morning erection, and her eyes lingered on it for a moment before she shook herself.

Mature conversation.

Honestly, what on earth had Beyond done to her that even the sight of his cock tempted her to wake him with a blow job?

She licked her lips, but dragged her eyes away, taking hold of his shoulders and shaking him.

“Beyond, wake up.”

When slapping him didn’t have any more effect, she frowned down at him, hating him just a little bit. Because she knew him too well to think that he was actually asleep still, and to think that she would be able to convince him to move unless…

Maybe Watari was right, and he was just a manipulative arsehole who was tricking her into liking him for his own purposes, but he was _her_ manipulative arsehole, and this seemed far preferable to mature conversation anyway.

“Wake up and you can fuck me,” she whispered in his ear. “No tricks, no lies, I promise.”

Beyond opened one eye, a peek to see if she looked honest, but she was already getting out from under the bed and his hand shot out after her, catching her ankle. She shook it loose, laughing despite herself.

“Get out from under there, lazy bones, and bring a pillow to cushion the headboard,” she demanded, sitting herself down on the bed and starting to undress.

“It’s too light up there,” he complained, peeking out from under the bed. “Can’t you come back down here?”

“Why, are you self-conscious?” she laughed. “I’ve seen it all.”

“Not in the cold light of day,” he grumbled, pushing a pillow out from where it was hidden from her view. “You already called me creepy and off putting.”

“But I love you anyway,” she grinned as she said the words; a conscious choice. Despite everything Watari had warned her about, her thinking the night before had not likely taken the direction he had expected.

She had the chance whilst this case was still ongoing to continue this, and if Watari was right and Beyond was going to show her some deeper darkness at his core she was protected by the presence of the other investigators, by L. But this was his one and only chance, and she cared about him enough to see whether that was something she could cope with rather than making her decision now based only on Watari’s word.

Beyond’s head poked out from under the bed once more, followed by his shoulders.

“What did you say?” he was smiling, teasing, but she met his eyes with determination.

“I love you, Bailey Blackwood, now are you going to get your arse up here and fuck me or should I go get breakfast?”

“Breakfast after,” he promised, emerging from under the bed and straight onto the top with a contortion of his spine that made him look snake like. She laughed as he hovered there on all fours, looking her over as if he couldn’t decide where to start.

“You asked last night if I trust you,” before it went wrong, but she didn’t say that. “What did you have in mind?”

He hovered in hesitation.

“We haven’t talked about…”

“You want to talk now?” she raised an eyebrow. “I’ve dealt with it. You’ve got a past, you’ve made mistakes. So have I.”

“Very different mistakes,” he looked suspicious.

“Well that was always a given,” she acknowledged. “I’m not okay with it, but that’s the past. Now, is there anything else you would like to talk about or…”

He didn’t look like he believed her, but that was okay. She could hardly believe herself, but he had a point. She knew he had killed people when she had started this relationship, she hadn’t been okay with it then and she wasn’t now, but she had gone into this without a blindfold; she knew who he was, and if now she had another piece of the jigsaw puzzle she still wouldn’t throw out the whole thing.

“Last night, I thought perhaps if you trusted me…” he swallowed. “Don’t be angry.”

“Just tell me,” she wasn’t angry, but she was frustrated and impatient.

“I’ve had your mouth, and your cunt,” he listed, “I thought…”

“Beyond Birthday, are you asking a woman who you have only been officially with for two days for anal?” she teased, grinning.

“I suppose I am,” he smiled back, looking a little relieved that he hadn't upset her.

“No,” she refused. “Before you say anything, I’m not saying never, but I’m not ready for that and it’s not like I have any lube… oh, where did you get that?”

Beyond had pulled a small bottle from under the bed.

“L has loads of them, I pickpocketed him yesterday,” he told her.

“It’s still a no,” she took it from him and set it aside. “For now.”

“Well then what do you have in mind?” he looked only a little disappointed.

“Just you, me, and that table over there,” she pointed to the dressing table. “Maybe some handcuffs, and you could pretend…”

She hesitated at the greedy look on his face, anticipating. “You could pretend we’re in the meeting room, that you’ve somehow managed to get me in the cuffs instead of you…”

“Say no more,” he laughed, lifting her from the bed into his arms and carrying her to the table, setting her down. “This way or…?”

She got up and turned around so that she was pressing her bare breasts into the cold wooden tabletop, her arse in the air.

“Do you know how many times I pictured this, back in that cell?” he asked her as he caressed her skin, gently massaging her back. “How many times I thought of you bent over like this, begging me…”

It was only the slightest pause, but she was anticipating it, suspicious of him as she now was.

“…to fuck you,” he continued, but the pause was enough.

“Begging you to let me go,” she supplied instead, a correction from the more acceptable answer he thought he was giving her. His hands paused in their movements, but she hadn’t tensed, and so he felt confident enough to hum his approval. “You described yourself as an _aggressive_ top.”

“I don’t rape,” he denied.

“No, but generally thoughts turn darker than actions,” she told him, years of FBI profiling experience talking. “It’s alright to fantasise.”

“And did you want me to do this, back then?” he questioned, one rough fingertip tracing near to her clit, never quite stimulating.

“Not then,” she admitted. “Now…”

“Bad girl,” he teased before he descended on her, teeth and tongue over her shoulder blades, one hand holding her hips in place as two fingers from the second thrust as deeply as they could inside her. “Hush now, Agent Misora, you wouldn’t want the guard to see you like this, would you?”

She wouldn’t, she would fear losing her job if someone found out, so it made sense that she wouldn’t scream for help. That made things easier, limited her to begging.

“Please, Beyond, I don’t want this…”

“Yes you do,” he growled, teeth nipping at her shoulder. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. You’ve been leading me on since the start, playing all prim and proper…”

“No, I wasn’t…”

A third finger, thrusting ungently inside. She gasped, a little spark of pain from the stretch too soon making this more real. She could almost picture herself in the meeting room, the cold wood of the table replaced with the metal of the one in the room, the walls featureless aside from the doors. He hadn’t handcuffed her wrists but she held them above her head anyway as if the handcuffs were in place.

“You deny it, but you’re wet, Agent. Is all this for me?” he pulled out his fingers and showed them to her, soaked, before making little appreciative noises as he licked them clean. “Delicious.”

She struggled, fought – but didn’t move her hands, suddenly certain that he had left them unbound to act as a warning sign, since she could move them at any time but for as long as she held them up she was obviously happy to continue. She tried to get his legs out from under him with a twist of her own, nearly succeeded too before he knelt down behind her, hands grasping her ankles and spreading them.

“Now now, Agent, you’re going to like this,” he told her, trailing his tongue over her cunt, dipping in a little before trailing down and circling her clit. She tried to writhe away, though she wanted nothing more than to press herself back against him, encourage him.

Fuck, but he was good with his tongue. Even if she had really been trying to resist, even if they really had been back in the cell, she would have struggled to stop the noises that escaped as he stimulated her.

“Agent,” he purred, standing and grasping her hips, holding tight enough to bruise. “Will you beg for me?”

“No,” she wanted him, but even outside the cell she had more self-respect than that.

“Too bad,” without warning his cock drove inside her, jolting her forward on the table as his hips struck her ass. She gasped, the sharp edge of the table cutting into the tops of her thighs as he slammed into her again and again, not holding back.

“Stop… please,” _more…_

But he did, and she gasped, trying to grind back against him but his hands held her in place. She struggled again, trying to loosen his grip, but no matter how much the rest of her body moved her hips remained still – and so did his.

“I’m not going to fucking beg you,” she growled, forcing herself to relax and stay still.

“Hmm…”

“Get off me,” she tried instead.

“As you wish,” he drew out of her, still holding her in place at the hips.

Damn, would he actually leave her like this, leave her needing him so desperately? This was a terrible game…

She felt empty, overstimulated and desperate. She would feel that way, even if they were back there in the meeting room, even if she were chained to a table…

“Please.”

“Be more specific, Agent?”

“Please… fuck me,” she bit out, and moaned at the relief of having him inside her again, moving more steadily now, stimulating rather than mindlessly fucking. It was too good, too much. How long had she fantasised about this, even before she allowed herself to? How long had this very scenario invaded her dreams? He knew her too well. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” he chuckled, altering the angle of his thrusts until he had her gasping with every one. She rocked back to meet him, and his hands guided her to take him deeper.

“Say my name,” his taunting tone cut through the near haze of pleasure as he kept her right there, carefully balanced at the edge but not giving her enough to come.

“No,” she challenged, retaining just enough of her mind to continue this game even though she knew he would not allow her any more until she had submitted. He laughed at her and her breath caught. This wasn’t his usual laugh, creepy as it was, this was something… else. Darker, yes, more befitting the monster than the man.

It was almost enough on its own to force her orgasm, but she didn’t have the ability to think about what that said about her at that point.

He leaned down, somehow maintaining the depth of his movements within her as he licked up her back and over her neck, nipping her earlobe between his teeth.

“Say my name?”

“No,” she managed, and why did such a creepy action have her quivering with desire rather than disgust?

“Final warning,” his teeth nipped her at the base of her jaw and he drew back, scarred fingers circling her clit. “Say my name.”

What would he do? Would he stop, would he leave her like this? But… no, the way he had said it, almost as if the prospect excited him… as if he was waiting for her refusal.

Did she dare? “…no.”

A yell of protest as he withdrew from her, another as he grabbed her by the wrists and the hair and pulled her up from the table, a final yelp of surprise as he shoved her onto the bed, stalking after her with a flash of the creature she had seen the night before corrupting the desire there. She couldn’t help herself, unable to take her eyes off him but heart racing with sudden adrenaline, scrambling up the bed still on her back until her back hit the headboard and she was trapped as he crawled towards her with the easy movements of a predator that could see its prey was trapped.

She was frozen like a deer in the headlights as he leaned close, within inches of her face, and his head tipped sideways, a wide and terrifying grin baring teeth.

“Beyond, you’re scaring me,” she admitted, heart racing.

“Ah, so now you say it,” he giggled, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her down until the back of her head hit the mattress. “Suck.”

His cock was there, pressing firmly against her lips, his head still tipped almost unnaturally sideways as he looked down at her. She swallowed, holding his gaze as she parted her lips and took him inside, fighting ferociously with her gag reflex as he drove inside hard, right to the back of her throat where her throat convulsed around him despite her efforts. She swallowed, expecting but not getting a reaction as he remained completely still, watching her as she tried to move her mouth on his cock, her tongue doing nothing to the scar tissue towards the base of his length, tried to push him away to give herself space to move, space to breathe. She couldn’t breathe, her lungs screaming for air and still he held still as she tried to get out from under him, only just managing to get a knee up high enough to strike his spine and force him to buckle, give her chance to gasp a single breath before with a snarl he moved, his spine cracking as it rippled.

“Say my name,” he demanded, his cock pressing at her core.

“Beyond…”

Teeth in her collar bone, breaking the skin. She yelled, trying to shove him away but it was no good, even with all her FBI trained strength he slipped her grasp, lapping at the bloodied skin.

“Not that one,” he growled, nipping again warningly.

“Bailey,” she said it quickly, afraid of what he would do next and simultaneously _needing_ him inside her, wrapping her legs up and around his back. “Please…”

He laughed, licking from the bite up along her neck and hovering over her lips, a single red droplet falling onto them. With the taste of iron already invading her senses, she closed the gap and kissed him as he thrust inside.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, breaking their kiss only to lick her cheek. She turned her head away, regretting it instantly as he used the opportunity to bite none too gently over her pulse point, sucking skin between his lips and teeth to mark. It was almost enough to distract from the feel of his cock filling her, her hips rising to meet him. “Remind me, darling, why shouldn’t I tear your pretty throat out right now?”

She gasped, staring up at him as he grinned down at her, waiting for her answer, and she could fully believe that if she gave the wrong one he may just do it.

“I…” she couldn’t think, couldn’t find the words, and he laughed at her, his teeth stained red from her blood. The answer came to her, unbidden, unwelcome given the expression on his face, the threat that he made. “I love you, you creep.”

The laughter stopped instantly, and she swallowed, suddenly sure that she had said the wrong thing, but when he next claimed her lips he was gentle with her, a hand reaching between them to stimulate her clit and she hadn’t realised just how close she was, back arching as he overwhelmed her at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must admit this is my favourite Beyond... when he's not trying to hide anything. What do you think? Are you angry at me because he's not as sweet as he's been pretending to be, or are we all as glad that B's being... well, B?


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misora is conflicted...

“You’re late,” L glanced at the clock as they joined the task force nearly an hour after they were due to convene for the morning. Without Beyond and his make up L and Light were both obviously bruised, and no doubt had spent at least some of that time explaining to the investigators some form of excuse for their appearance that no longer passed muster, not now they had seen Misora. She thought she should have been ashamed of the marks Beyond had left on her shoulders and her neck, but she wasn’t; not at all, actually. So much so that she hadn’t minded his selection when he had retrieved a sleeveless, shoulder less top from their shared wardrobe in the top floor rooms for her to wear that day.

“Just in time for the broadcast,” Beyond corrected, collecting jam from the fridge and lounging in the chair they so often shared whilst Misora rolled her eyes at him and gathered the ingredients for a more wholesome breakfast.

“What happened…” Matsuda began before Light could throw a cushion at his head.

“Don’t be an idiot,” L groaned as Beyond grinned, launching himself at the chair and pushing the young detective back, straddling his hips.

“Would you like a practical demonstration?” he offered, tongue stroking up the young officer’s neck and nipping his earlobe in a way that was too familiar to Misora; she threw a spoon to hit the back of his head.

“Beyond!” she scolded sharply, “I don’t share.”

Laughing wildly, her lover left Matsuda’s lap and turned to her.

“He didn’t answer.”

Matsuda was scrubbing at his neck with the palm of his hand, a look of utter terror and disgust showing that the reason he didn’t speak was because he couldn’t speak from shock, not desire.

“Me or him, love,” she warned, noting his pointed blink; hardly a tell, on someone else, but on him, showing his surprise. It was one thing to refer to him as ‘love’ when they were alone, but in company was another step. He hadn't expected it. He sighed heavily.

“I suppose he’s not worth it,” he sulked, curling up in their chair in a crouch very similar to L’s.

Not worth what, she found herself wondering. Not worth losing her, or not worth losing the chance for his freedom? If Watari was right – and it seemed he certainly was, about Beyond carefully making sure he held back until she was more comfortable with him, perhaps letting a little of his crazy show through at a time to make sure she got used to it gradually, what else was he right about? Did Beyond care about her at all? Was she just the means to an end? A toy to manipulate, to bend to his will? And should she be afraid of him?

He had killed people. She hadn’t forgotten, had… looked past it, she supposed, but in the cold light of day it was harder to ignore. And there was still that look of triumph in the elevator.

She had been afraid, less than an hour ago even with his cock in her mouth, afraid of him and yet… what had he done to her that every time they had sex was the most intense it had ever been, that she had been so aroused despite her fear? Perhaps… because of it. She thought back, even a year ago, considered what her reaction would have been then.

Pure terror, surely, there wouldn’t have been even a thought of arousal. Even if that alone hadn’t been enough to really frighten her, the bite on her shoulder breaking the skin, that would have had her fighting him in earnest and running for the hills. The bloodied kiss would have her vomiting, not wanting more.

“You’re buttering the countertop,” he murmured against her neck, surprising her. She had been so deep in thought that she hadn’t been paying any attention, hadn’t noticed him leave his chair and approach her. “What are you thinking about?”

“Hell is empty, and the devils are here,” she quoted Shakespeare to him, setting the knife down, not trusting her hands to remain steady. She had, indeed, managed to get about as much butter on the counter as on her toast.

“If there be devils, would I were a devil, to live and burn in everlasting fire, so I might have your company in hell but to torment you with my bitter _tongue_ ,” he quoted back unexpectedly, tracing that tongue over her bite mark. She hadn’t realised that he knew Shakespeare… she supposed he was British, and a genius, of course he would.

“Hmm,” she bent her head to allow him access to that side of her neck. “Perhaps you are not, I think. The devil is, after all, a gentleman, and hath power to assume a pleasing shape.”

“You have witchcraft in your lips.” He growled, an animalistic sound, low and dangerous, turning her to face him. Her teasing words were weighted, not hiding internal debate. Of course he would be able to pick up the indecision, the concern in her thoughts though she tried to hide it behind quotations rather than using words of her own. He continued to quote, “We all are men, in our own natures frail, and capable of our flesh; few are angels.”

“O' What may man within him hide, though angel on the outward side?” she questioned, the quote springing to mind from her internal questioning but too direct, too honest, defeating the point of this whole exchange in diverting attention away and instead asking the question she had been considering. What monster, what devil did Beyond still hide from her?

“Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep,” he challenged. “There is some soul of goodness in things evil, would men observingly distil it out.”

“When my love swears that he is made of truth, I do believe him, though I know he lies,” she accused outright. “There are three people in yourself - who people think you are, who you think you are, and who you really are.”

“Misora…” L’s interruption cut through the tension, Beyond drawing away from her as if burned, his eyes narrowed as he considered her, tried to see through her eyes what had turned her thoughts. In him she could read betrayal, and more than a little curiosity. Their exchange may have been in Shakespearean quotations, but she could not have asked more clearly nor he answered; she had outright told him that she believed he was darker than he allowed her to see, even now. He barely denied it, and so she had her answer.

So Watari was right in this too, and Beyond was using her; manipulating her. He didn’t even put forth a good argument to refute it. Only one question remained; did he actually care about _her_ at all, or just his freedom?

“Never play with the feelings of others, because you may win the game but the risk is that you will surely lose the person for a life time,” she warned him, a parting shot, snatching her toast from the counter and sitting not in their chair but in the seat on the sofa Light had vacated when he started to share L’s chair.

“What was all that about?” Matsuda asked her. She frowned at him.

“Shut up, Matsuda,” she didn’t bother to explain as the television set turned to a plain black screen; Kira’s broadcast, their reply.

“I am Kira, the true Kira. The one you heard yesterday was an imposter…”

“How’s this even going to work if all the Kira’s are working together?” Matsuda whispered. Misora really wished she could stomp on his foot like she would Beyond’s if he interrupted the broadcast with such an inane comment, but she didn’t think it would go down well. Besides, Matsuda would only make more noise complaining.

“This second Kira makes claims to hate evil but kills innocents in Kira’s name. Kira seeks to rid the world of such evil, of such _murderers_. However, I speak directly to you now, false Kira. I shall give you one chance to redeem yourself. Either join me or choose to stand against me and I shall end your pathetic existence...”

“A bit much?” Beyond questioned.

“L was encouraging me,” Light looked a little sheepish. “I may have been a little… carried away.”

“Oh, I’ll bet you were,” Beyond grinned at him. From the sofa opposite Misora watched him interacting, not at all surprised to see that there was no change in his behaviour even after their argument of sorts.

“… Come tomorrow to the stepping stones. Make no sign to distinguish yourself; the world will be watching. I shall know you.”

“How is he to know to go to Tokyo?” Matsuda asked Misora, and though she was frustrated to have to explain this to him (it was obvious, wasn’t it?) she directed him to the small symbol in the bottom right corner of the screen; the Tokyo metropolitan crest.

“And the stepping stones are a reference to Kiyosumi Teien, the landscape garden with stepping stones over the pond,” she had found it obvious, and she had not been in Japan for years. This man lived here; how could he be so dense? She scolded herself after thinking this. Matsuda, for all that in comparison with present company he seemed foolish, was still far more intelligent than many of her colleagues at the FBI had been – including Raye.

“Won’t other people work that out?” Beyond questioned.

“The police have been given strict instruction to stay out of this,” L told him. “We will capture this Kira alone.”

“If they come,” Light pointed out.

“They will,” L was confident. “They will not resist, either because it is a direct challenge to them or because they fear for their life if they do not.”

“How are we to catch them safely?” Matsuda questioned.

“Beyond, we will need you there to spot him,” L suggested. “And I was hoping we would also be able to rely on the very best field agent I know.”

Misora scowled across at Beyond as he glared right back. However, she was a professional first and foremost… well, perhaps not first nowadays, but she could do this. This was important.

“Fine.”

“Just us?”

“No sense risking anyone else,” L told the killer with a note of mischief. “I believe the two of you can succeed in this. Also, there are only two motorcycle helmets.”

“You could get hundreds more,” Beyond reminded him. “You don’t expect us to bring this Kira in alive?”

“It would be nice, but no,” L agreed. “It would be too dangerous, especially if their power extends as far as Shinigami eyes. Identify and eliminate.”

“Ryuk,” Beyond turned to the ever-present Shinigami, who was otherwise occupied by a never-ending supply of apples in his own corner of the room. “With my eyes I can’t see a name unless I can see a face. Is that the same for a Shinigami?”

“Yes, hyuk,” Ryuk tossed an apple core into the air and swallowed it down. “Couldn’t track you down like that either, long as they lost sight of you at some point.”

“Well then, that sounds like a plan,” he looked round to Misora. “I’m the getaway driver.”

“Beyond Birthday, if you so much as scratch that motorbike…”

“You’ll get a new one, a better one. I know what L’s paying you, pudding.”

She tried not to react, tried not to rise to it, but felt the sharp pain inside as he called her that; pudding now, not darling? One argument was enough, then, for him to drop that pretence?

“Does this mean I get weapons?” he was practically drooling as he looked to L, who shrugged. “Ooh, can I get a machine gun?”

“No,” she snapped before L could answer, probably a yes if she left it to him. “You’re only killing one person, not the whole park.”

She had expected some sort of complaint or taunt back but it didn’t come. He didn’t even look at her.

“How about knives then, and at least a handgun, you’ve got to give me that?” he suggested, and L nodded. “What about a grenade…”

“Again, one target,” she snapped.

“Smoke bombs?” he questioned. “Might help with the getaway.”

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” she agreed. L glanced at her then, and she despised the look he gave her, telling her to be silent.

“Smoke bombs, knives, and a gun,” L promised to him. “Misora will have a handgun too of course. If you can make it a clean kill, in and out without any other casualties it would look better for the task force and invite fewer questions as to why we utilised a serial killer for the job.”

“Yeah, yeah,” bored Beyond rolled his eyes. “We’re all good people here, got it.”

“Maybe we should send someone else,” the usually quiet Mogi suggested. “You have your cameras…”

“No. Not just because Beyond is capable of killing,” L explained. “But because he can see the Shinigami and manage any threat it poses. He is the only one who can. For anyone else this would be a suicide mission.”

“It’s Beyond,” Misora noted dryly. “He’s probably ambivalent about it being a suicide mission for him, too.”

“There is that,” L allowed. “Although I would rather you both do come back alive, all things considered.”

“Aww geez L, that’s so nice,” Beyond grinned. “Worried you’ll miss out on the chance for that threesome?”

“It’s still a no,” Light grumbled.

“If you come back alive…”

“L!” Light clapped a hand over the detective’s mouth, snatching it away in horror when L blew a raspberry against his palm. “Do you have to be such a child all the time?”

“He’s just trying to be age appropriate for his toy boy,” Beyond teased. “Go on L.”

“ _If_ you come back alive and Misora doesn’t make up with you, I’ll buy you a threesome before you go back to prison,” he offered, oblivious to Light’s relieved look.

“Wonder how much you’ll have to pay him?” Beyond waggled his eyebrows to Light, who flinched.

“Shouldn’t we be making plans, not wasting time talking about things that will _never happen_?” Light demanded.

“I’m going to give the bike a run out,” Misora told them, deciding she had enough of watching Beyond flirting. She found it was only fun when she was a part of it.

It hurt her heart far more than it should that she wasn’t.

* * *

 

“What happened today?” L questioned Beyond when they were left alone. Light, despite L’s protests, had gone home for the night to get a better sleep. Apparently it was disconcerting when L crouched over him and watched him all night when he slept. Misora had also left, continuing to rent the extra hotel suite three floors below.

“She’s overthinking things.”

“No,” L shook his head. Sat together, they didn’t maintain their crouches but sprawled loosely on opposite sofas, facing one another.

“She doesn’t trust me.”

“Clever girl,” L smiled.

“She did before.” Beyond was bitter. No masks were needed, not with L.

Let them all think Kira was the one manipulating the detective; the two of them knew better.

“Are you sure?”

“I’d suggested that you intended us to be effectively married, and she didn’t run,” he expanded. “I’m very sure.”

“Yes, that does sound convincing.”

“She came up here last night?” Beyond queried.

“I did not see her,” L denied.

“Ah, well, you wouldn’t, you were otherwise occupied.”

“True,” L grinned, matching to Beyond’s. “He does this thing with his tongue…”

“Not to be ungrateful, and I never thought I would say this, but I’m really not interested,” Beyond sighed. “Where was Wammy last night?”

“In his rooms,” L scowled. “Here.”

“Did he get to her?”

“There is a high probability,” L shrugged.

“He never liked me,” Beyond complained.

“He knows you too well to like you.”

“He doesn’t know me as well as he thinks,” Beyond snapped, and L raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“You’re soft on her?”

“I’m never _soft_ on anyone.”

“Well, there is that,” L rolled his eyes as Beyond slipped a hand into his trousers, palming himself if only to make a point. “This isn’t just to keep yourself out of prison, then?”

“When have I ever only had one motive for my actions?”

“When indeed?” L was shamelessly watching Beyond touch himself. “She’d be upset, if I tell her you got off without her.”

Beyond growled, but his hand stopped and pulled out of his trousers.

“You _are_ soft on her,” the detective laughed.

“If you fucking tell anyone…”

“You should tell her,” L recommended. “Before she has to choose whether to send you back to prison and you lose her.”

“No,” Beyond grumbled.

“Your foolish pride with be the death of you.”

Beyond nodded his agreement.

No, he couldn’t tell Misora. She was just foolish enough to believe him, or to spot his honesty, and then she would tie herself to him for the rest of her life. All these years and she had only just found some semblance of freedom; no, he wouldn’t entrap her like that. Better that he went back to the prison. It was where he belonged anyway. Or perhaps, better yet, that he died in this Kira trap and that way she would not have to choose, would have no guilt for it.

“I know that look,” L interrupted his thoughts. “I want your word that you will come back alive tomorrow.”

“And if I cannot give it?”

“Then we give up on this plan altogether,” L threatened.

Beyond sighed heavily. He closed his eyes, not bothering to go to a bed or under one to sleep, sure that he wouldn’t get a comfortable rest anywhere without another warm body beside him. “Fine. I will bring her back safe.”


	22. Chapter 22

“The case could be finished today,” Matsuda was as excited as a new puppy that morning, and as restless as one. Misora thought it was a wonder he didn’t just collapse under the weight of so much happiness. “Light, I always knew you couldn’t be Kira.”

“But there’s more than one Kira,” Light pointed out. She figured he was smarting a little, this time at being told he w _asn’t_ Kira. “The case won’t be over.”

“No,” L agreed, crunching panda shaped sweets. “But we can look outside Japan once this Kira is caught.”

_We can get out of here and go make a new world with both our justice, Kira,_ Misora translated in her head.

“What if we want to come with you?” the chief had returned for this, possibly their final day of investigation. “I for one would like to see this case through to the end.”

“You can’t, dad,” Light argued. “What about mom and Sayu? If I’m going with L, that would leave them on their own.”

“This is important, Light. If Kira isn’t stopped…”

“If L’s right,” Light argued. “The Kira who kills innocents is the one we’re going after today. That Kira is the most important one to stop quickly. If the other Kiras only kill criminals, we can catch them without taking the same degree of risk. Besides, we’ve always known it was risky to have known police officers on the case. Your face and name are public because of your job. L’s isn’t, and neither is mine except as a college student.”

“This is true, Light-Kun,” L agreed. “Besides, no matter which country we go to next, the resources of their local policing are what we need, not a few individual officers. We will create a new task force there if necessary.”

Misora ignored the disgruntled and offended task force, spotting the manipulation for exactly what it was. Why was it so easy to spot with L but not with Beyond?

Of course, this wasn’t directed at her. Beyond’s was. Perhaps if L turned that manipulation to directing her she would fall for it. She had in the past.

“We shouldn’t be counting our velociraptors before they’ve hatched,” Beyond interrupted them all. He was drawing a map of the park they were using on the table. Using his fingers and a pot of jam. Misora was almost flattered that he was eating her home-made jam whilst using the stuff Watari had bought as a writing implement. Almost, because she refused to acknowledge it if she was. “Do we have any broccoli?”

“Why on earth would you want broccoli?” L demanded, suspicious.

“Trees,” Beyond waved at the jam map on the table as if it were obvious. “Also, any mayonnaise?”

“The water?” Light questioned, sighing when Beyond nodded. “You could just use a pen and paper like most people.”

“I don’t happen to have a _notebook_ handy,” Beyond mused. “Could I borrow yours?”

“No!” Light snapped a little too quickly.

“Wait a minute, here we go…” Beyond pulled a simple black notebook from the front of his trousers where he had rolled it up and shoved it down. Misora had been wondering a little why he had an erection but had dismissed it as just another thing that was the norm for Beyond Birthday. “Is this yours?”

“Yes,” Light snapped.

“You’ve been keeping track of everyone Kira’s killed?” Beyond considered, flicking through the book. “Even the ones L hasn’t found yet?”

“Of course, for the case,” Light tried to snatch the book back. Beyond held it out of his reach before passing it to L.

“You could learn a thing or two from that,” he suggested, returning to his map. “I’m surprised he hadn’t shown you. You are working on this together after all.”

“Yes, would you mind if I keep this a while Light-Kun?” L questioned, turning the pages of the book with some fascination. “I would like to cross reference with some of my files. There may be some names I need to add here.”

“What?” Light stared, only his dignity preventing him from gawping as L nipped his finger end between his teeth.

“Yes, there are definitely names that belong on this page,” L commented idly. “Oh, and here…”

“See, working together gets you everywhere,” Beyond grinned, also thanking Matsuda who had brought him the additional foodstuffs for his map, substituting pesto for grass and spinach for the trees. Beyond began to spread the mayonnaise. “Between you I’m sure you’ll bring justice for Kira.”

“…yes,” Light considered L curiously. “We should share things more.”

“I agree,” L looked to him, finally taking his eyes from the notebook. “Would you like some of my cake? I believe there might be a slice left…”

“No,” Light laughed. “That’s fine, I don’t want cake.”

“And Light-Kun questioned it when I called him a serial killer,” L shook his head. “Why wouldn't I suspect a man who doesn’t like cake?”

“Not liking cake was my most suspicious quality?”

“It was one of them.”

“Okay, all of you, pay attention to me now!” Beyond demanded childishly. Misora rolled her eyes; whatever he said would have essentially meant just that, but why did it always have to be so blatant?

Because, she reasoned, if he was so blunt all the time, no one bothered to question if he was lying. L seemed to use the same principle, just not to such extremes.

Beyond talked them through the plan he had L had produced the night before, ignoring the protests of the others about how risky this was and how much trust L was putting in just the two of them.

* * *

 

If L had operated like a normal police agency he would have guards posted at every gate rather than video cameras. If Watari had been a normal butler, he wouldn’t have been able to install the screens on the inside of Beyond’s motorcycle helmet, able to move into his central vision and out again with his control, so that he could search all of the cameras for the second Kira. If Beyond had been a normal man he might have even worn a bullet proof vest.

Misora wore one, beneath her black leather jacket. She straddled the motorcycle, Beyond pressed close to her back, trying to ignore his arms looped around her and the hard cock pressed against her.

“You can’t honestly be excited by all this?” she challenged him, shifting uncomfortably.

“This? No,” he giggled. “You pressed against me, scrumptious? Always.”

She huffed, forced by necessity to wait for his instruction and tolerate his impropriety no matter how angry with him she was.

“You could at least shift back on the seat whilst we’re stationary,” she suggested. In shifting forwards away from where he pressed against her she had almost left the seat of the motorcycle herself, her hips right up against the handles.

“I could,” he agreed. “But waiting is boring and even when you’re angry with me, you’re soft and warm and squishy.”

“I have sharp elbows,” she reminded him, reluctant to strike him in the abdomen with one in case he missed anything on his look out for the second Kira.

“What if this Kira is too stupid to work out the location?” he wondered to her idly. He really did have the attention span of a gnat; they had only been waiting for fifteen minutes and they hadn’t specified a time. They could be there all day. How he had waited so long in the flat before setting himself on fire two years ago was inexplicable, except perhaps because it would end in his death. Not that death seemed to bother him then, or now for that matter. She had tried to insist on the bullet proof vest, but he had called her a pussy and refused.

“Then we will have to set another trap at another time,” she told him, “but it wasn’t exactly hard to work out. See how many people are at the park today?”

“Spectators,” he sniffed. “Fools.”

“You’d think they’d be worried about being caught in the cross fire,” she mused.

“Misora.” His tone was sharp, suddenly, his body finally shifting back a little to allow her space between hips and handlebars. “She’s here.”

“She?”

“She,” he confirmed. “She’s heading deeper into the park. Her Shinigami’s with her.”

“We have time?”

“Plenty, but be ready,” his leg was moving, his foot tapping in impatience, but he didn’t encourage her to drive for another several minutes. “Alright, she’s at the central stepping stones. There are bystanders.”

“In the way?”

“A little, but I can make the shot,” he promised. “You just worry about getting us there before she moves on too far.”

“What about her Shinigami?”

“With her. If it’s anything like Ryuk it won’t act against us,” he reminded her.

“And if it’s not?”

“That’s when I drive,” he sounded delighted by the prospect.

Misora revved the motorcycle to life, racing into the park and weaving through the crowd. L had installed a device that she would have to get rid of later; it all but silenced the usually roaring engine, making their approach to the stepping stones near silent.

“The Shinigami has seen us, bony piece of shit,” Beyond spoke quietly, their helmets fitted with communicators so that they didn’t have to shout and give away any secrets even when the bike was running. “She’s looking this way… warning the Kira.”

“Fuck…” Misora reduced the speed of the bike, intending to turn away, to plan again, but Beyond covered her hand on the throttle and sped it up. “We can’t…”

“We’ve got the helmets, and I’ve still got a clean shot…”

The stones were in view between the trees, a large gathering of people crowded around.

“Who?”

“The blonde goth, on the rocks…”

Beyond threw them both from the bike as a shot rang out.

“Fuck!”

Misora hit the ground hard, the bike falling away from them, wheels still spinning. Beyond had landed on top of her, winding her, a gun in each of his hands. She tried to push herself up, reaching for her gun too.

Beyond leapt up, another shot ringing out.

Tearing pain through her chest, beneath her arm, above the vest. She crumpled back to the floor, yelling. It came out as a wheeze.

Another shot, a shriek.

Another, and another, Beyond moving away from her as her vision blurred, but no more pains, only that one, only the hiss of air from her side and the blasts of the guns.

Another shot, another, the clicking of an empty barrel. A snarl. Metal hitting rock.

Her eyelids were heavy, but she forced them open. The crowd were running now. They stood for the shots, but blood was spreading. Around her, around the Kira, blonde hair distinguishing the bloody mess that Beyond crouched over, hands and knives tearing, ripping, rending. His back to her, arched over, shoulder blades sticking out behind him like wings. Blood on his hands, his arms, even the back of his neck as he ripped and tore.

Her vision blurred. She blinked it clear and regretted it. The Kira was not one body anymore. A mess of parts. A hand, still holding a gun, landing on one of the stepping stones. Still that animal snarling in her ears. Still the glint of knives.

A shadow over her. She tried to look up. Nothing there.

A roar.

“Hey, Shinigami!” Beyond’s voice, furious as he stomped towards her. No fear. The beast’s focus wasn’t directed at her. She was not his prey.

The shadow had wings. Misora’s vision centred on these, where they covered the blood on the ground. Her blood? She was hardly sure any more.

“Try to kill me! Go on, try!” he yelled, throwing bloody body parts at an invisible figure.

She tried to push herself up but it was no good. Only an inch from the floor before she couldn’t. Air hissing out of her side with each breath. Each one harder than the last.

“You’re pathetic,” Beyond laughed, creepy as ever. A hint of madness there. “Can’t see our faces, can’t get our names? Couldn’t protect your pretty little bit of a girl. I _tore her apart_ and you couldn’t stop me!”

The shadow was moving, perhaps speaking. Beyond laughed still but didn’t speak whilst he listened.

She could hear it, a faint voice.

“I have claws, disgusting human, I do not need your name to kill you,” the voice threatened. Misora thought she might just be going mad with her blood loss and lack of oxygen, her mind filling in the gaps.

“Ooh, I’m so scared,” he taunted, “You’ll have to catch me first.”

He was on the bike. Her mind was drifting, but he was on the bike, and he was leaving her.

He was leaving her to die.

Her breath hissed from her chest as the shadow left her. Without something to see, her eyes drifted closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Sorry (not sorry) for the cliffhanger


	23. Chapter 23

Misora’s eyes opened groggily to the bleep of machinery and the feeling of pain in her side. The light was too bright, white and clear and evidently a hospital even without the other clues.

She wasn’t confused about where she was, although her thoughts felt a little sluggish. She was clearly on morphine, for the pain, though the pain broke through it. The drug had always floored her when she had been injured before on FBI cases. She had probably never needed so much of it, either.

She could hardly force her head to move, the muscles feeling underused. How long had she been unconscious?

“They kept you under for three days,” L’s voice answered her, though she was sure she hadn’t spoken aloud. “And two surgeries.”

There were stitches under her right arm and they itched intolerably. The pain was bearable, but the itch was too much. It felt far more ridiculous than it should, and she found herself laughing except that it hurt and she had to stop with a wince.

“I’m alive?” she realised much later than she should have.

“Yes,” L nipped a finger between his teeth, looking concerned.

“Kira?”

“The second Kira was a young model named Misa Amane,” L explained.

“She is dead?” she checked.

“They are still finding parts of her in the lake,” L looked impassive, but Misora couldn’t help cringing in disgust, remembering what she had seen. What she would never be able to un-see.

Watari was right, Beyond was a monster. He had torn that girl apart like a piñata with no regard for anyone or anything, least of all for the one he was tearing apart.

“Did it make the news?”

“The pictures were censored,” L explained. “But yes, and initially there was a police search for him too until I explained. The public are aware of the situation now, that there was more than one Kira.”

“Where’s everyone else?” she asked, feeling immediately like she was being needy by asking. She had never cared before if she was injured on a case for the FBI whether anyone was there when she woke up or not. But then she had never been so close to death before. And in recent years Raye had always been there.

Beyond wasn’t there. She didn’t really expect him to be, she supposed. Not since they had argued. He wouldn’t be by her bedside worrying over her, would perhaps only show a vague interest in whether she lived or died. She wasn’t useful to him if she was incapacitated, to keep him out of prison or to fuck.

The fact that he wasn’t present proved that he didn’t care about her. Watari was three for three.

She hated that he was right.

“Watari has gone to fetch more cake,” L told her. “He will be back shortly.”

“I don’t suppose I’m allowed to eat what I want?”

“Best stick to soft foods for now,” L recommended.

“That’s fine,” she frowned, hating herself but she was craving. Maybe it was because of the morphine. “But could Watari bring some jam?”

L smiled sweetly at her but he made the call.

“Where’s Light?”

“Kira-kun,” L grinned broadly, looking proud to be able to call the teenager that, “Needed to take a shower.”

“Oh God,” she groaned. “Please tell me you weren’t having sex in my hospital room?”

“No, of course not, that would be unsanitary,” L looked impassive. “We went to the spare room three over.”

“In a hospital?”

“We played doctors and nurses,” L was grinning again. “I’d never have even thought of that way to use a stethoscope, he…”

“L!” she yelped, desperate. “Please, I don’t want to know.”

“Are you sure?” L nipped a finger, still distracted, eyes glazed. Remembering. “It was rather inventive…”

“I’m sure,” she assured him. She wanted to ask about the elephant in the room – more specifically not in the room – but she couldn’t bring herself to. “The taskforce?”

“Disassembled. Chief Yagami returned straight to the NPA, the others are taking a short leave first. Matsuda has been worried about you.”

“He’s sweet,” she smiled. “Even if he’s a bit of an idiot.”

“Sometimes I think it might be good to have someone like that around,” L agreed. “The rest of us can barely piece together a single person’s worth of conscience between us.”

“Speak for yourself,” Misora glared. “I’ll have you know I’m a very good person.”

“That you are,” L reached out and patted her on the head. He was very lucky that she was incapacitated because otherwise she would have kicked him in the face.

She wanted to ask, but she couldn’t.

“Where will you go now, you and Kira?” she wondered. It was the first thing that came to mind except Beyond.

“Perhaps we will go to America,” he considered. “There are many states that are extremely fond of the death penalty on the whole. They might be a good place to start to build Kira’s kingdom.”

“On a diet of the cruel and the bigoted?” she scowled. “Surely it would be better to win over a powerful but tolerant locale which is considered morally acceptable, that way the rest of the world will take less issue to following?”

“Look at you, Misora, condoning murder,” L tipped his head, considering.

“Killing the worst criminals,” she shrugged. “I’ve never disagreed with the death penalty, L.”

“Still, I can’t imagine you would have been so accepting of this before, especially since Kira killed your ex.”

“Thank you for reminding me, I still haven’t congratulated him or thanked him for that,” she noted. “Remind me again when he’s back?”

“You’re not the same woman I contacted two years ago,” L continued regardless.

“No,” she sighed, wincing as it pulled on her stitches and something tight inside her chest. “I’m not.”

“Will you go back to the FBI?”

“I don’t think I could,” she considered. “Not with the way I left. Besides, I’d be bored there now. They’re too simple.”

“You could come work with Kira and I?” L requested.

“No,” she laughed. “No, I’d rather not spend my life being regaled with tales of your sexual exploits. Anyway, you’ve paid me a lot for this case. I’ll never have to work again. I could live anywhere.”

“Where will you go?” L parroted her earlier question.

“That depends on where Beyond will be imprisoned,” she admitted. Despite everything, she couldn’t imagine her life without him anymore. She had promised she would visit him in prison if he went back and she would keep her promise.

There was no answer to her implied question, and as the silence stretched on she tried to get her sluggish brain to catch up, to figure out L’s expression.

Watari walked in then, handing L a huge cheesecake cut into squares and offering Misora some of the jam on the end of a spoon, automatically assuming that she would be unable to feed herself. She couldn’t bring herself to accept it as she became increasingly concerned the longer the silence stretched.

L didn’t touch the cheesecake, and she began to panic.

“L, where’s Beyond?”

The detective was silent. Misora felt herself shaking, heart racing, bile rising in her throat. L couldn’t meet her eyes.

* * *

 

The bike tore through the city, weaving through the traffic on the main roads with expert control and precision. Beyond pushed the engine to seventy, eighty, even whilst weaving round, knees nearly hitting the ground on sharper turns.

How fast was a Shinigami? Quicker than this, wings beating frantically though. On a straight road he could lose her. He was sure of it.

Good luck finding one of those in central Tokyo without this damnable traffic.

But the Shinigami was slowing, dropping back. And he knew where she was going to go.

Fuck, but he couldn’t let her turn back.

Right now, L would be with Misora. The whole team would be there, maybe with an ambulance. Watari was good, he would be able to stabilise her, keep her alive until the ambulance arrived.

But they would probably take off her helmet, give her oxygen. She would have nothing to hide her face. Even if they had hidden theirs.

No, the Shinigami had to follow him.

“Hey, Skeletor!” he yelled, suspecting the Shinigami would hear him as he spun the bike to face her, revving the silent engine. Fuck that; he tore off L’s cleverly made silencer. He revved again; that was better. He pocketed the silencer, just in case. “You’re just going to let me go? That’s very sweet of you. Cowardly fucker!”

He revved the engine again and charged the Death God, turning at the last moment as her claws reached out for his helmet. The bike skidded, nearly going down, but he kept it on its wheels by the skin of his teeth and tore away.

It followed again; good, let him lead it away. Time, they needed time. Get her out of the area…

“L, talk to me,” he demanded, remembering the detective could hear him and could speak back if he chose.

“You’re alive,” L sounded surprised. Beyond would be offended, but as the Shinigami suddenly dropped out of the sky with a burst of increased speed he had to swerve and couldn’t snap a reply. “The Shinigami?”

“On me,” he spun down an alley and found it led to a blind end with a one floor drop. He silently cursed the damage he was about to do to Misora’s bike and drove straight over the drop, landing and ruining the suspension but still going, still avoiding the Shinigami. “How long to clear the area?”

“A few minutes at most,”

“Too long,” Beyond warned. “It’s already tried to turn back once.”

“We have to get her breathing…”

“Fuck!” Beyond screeched around a bend as he accidentally wobbled the bike. “She’s not fucking breathing?”

“Barely,” L admitted, pointless to deny now.

“If you let her die…”

“You said you would bring her back safe,” L argued.

“It was a lucky shot, she was wearing the vest, she _should_ have been safe,” he huffed, slowing as he lost sight of the Shinigami but having to quickly rethink as it shot out at him from a wall. “Keep her alive, L, or I’ll…”

“Kill me?”

“Kill Kira,” Beyond challenged. “I don’t know how yet but I will fucking shred him too.”

Silence on the line for a long time, but L hadn’t disconnected.

“You have to survive the Shinigami if you want to kill Kira,” L recommended. “Good luck.”

“Fuck you and your luck,” Beyond growled, finally finding open road in front of him. The suburbs. He pushed the bike faster. Not too fast. Keep the Shinigami with him for now…

“We’re clear,” L told him, then cut off.

“Alright then bitch, let’s see what you can do,” Beyond muttered to himself and twisted the throttle.

Ninety, one hundred, one ten. Clear road ahead, Shinigami behind. Corner, sweeping, no brakes, take a chance. Leather scraping on concrete, clench knee to bike, upright again. One twenty.

Lorry. Halfway out of junction, blocking the way. Swerve, too close to wall, fuck!

Cracking noise carried away on the wind. Pain, kneecap probably shattered. Bike still going, ignore it, road clear, throttle on, one twenty-five.

Shinigami no longer keeping pace, going higher, looking for another route?

Time to lose her. Back alley, round the building. Shinigami over the building. Need cover. Need…

A market hall. Inside, swerve around shoppers, caught one slightly – L wouldn’t be happy, collateral damage. Fuck them. Carry on. Re-site the engine silencer as he did. One less way to track him.

Out of side door, straight into bus station, out the other side. Rail tracks ahead, barriers down. Swerve between, fast enough to avoid train as it comes through but barely.

Shinigami out of sight, but she could still be following. No time to let up now. Off road? No, too slow. Middle of road, weaving once more in traffic. Aimed back to the middle of town. More back alleys. More places to lose her.

Down the very centre of the main road, ambulance sirens in the distance. Turn right, right again, head in the opposite direction. Don’t lead Shinigami to the ambulance.

“L, either turn off the fucking sirens or put her helmet back on,” he snarled into the helmet, looking for the Shinigami. Throttle down. Ninety, eighty, seventy. No sign of her.

Time to disappear.


	24. Chapter 24

L’s laptop was open on Misora’s hospital bed beside her, the screen showing camera footage of a prison cell.

Beyond would have been best described as on all threes, with one of his knees in a plaster cast holding it straight so that he was forced to drag it behind him as he prowled around the edges of his cage. He didn’t stop, hadn’t stopped when Watari had provided his meals, sliding them through a slot in the door. He shouted when that happened, but she couldn’t hear him on the video.

He wasn’t dealing with his return to imprisonment well, but then that was to be expected. After all his careful planning and manipulation, he would have been getting his hopes up.

She couldn’t take him now even if she wanted to. She had weeks of rehabilitation to deal with even if she hadn’t been guided to see through his lies. She had told L this, of course, when he finally admitted that Beyond had been injured in the chase with the Shinigami and that he had already been returned to a prison cell.

She wanted to dismiss him from her thoughts. She wanted to close the laptop, ignore it. Ignore him. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.

He wasn’t eating. Wasn’t sleeping. He was obviously distressed. The nurses looking after her asked more than once why L wasn’t medicating him, considering him alike to a psychiatric patient in his agitation. She couldn’t tell them that whoever tried to medicate Beyond Birthday would almost certainly die trying. Couldn’t tell them that this was probably quite normal for him. But then… he was declining jam.

That was how she knew something was really very wrong, and why she would not close the computer.

“L?” she asked, several hours later when he returned with Light. “What is he shouting, when Watari takes him food?”

“Mainly demands to see you,” L admitted. “I’m not sure he believes that you’re well.”

“But then why don’t you just bring him here?” she wondered, not taking her eyes from the screen.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He would attack anyone who tried to go in to the cell with him,” L explained. “Except, perhaps, you.”

“Well then I need to go to him,” she resolved. “He needs to know I’m alive.”

“He knows that,” L shrugged. “He came to see you before he had to go back to the cell.”

“Had to?”

“He only went back to the cell yesterday,” L told her. “He wouldn’t leave your side for the first two days, even to get his knee seen to.”

She hadn’t known that, no one had told her. Why had no one told her? She frowned, confused by the lack of information she had been given.

Why would he want to be there with her? Was he manipulating her further, did he think if he was there when he woke she would let him remain out of prison with her? Was he trying to trick her into thinking he cared?

“Did you speak to him?” she asked L, confused and wanting an explanation.

“There was no speaking to him, he wouldn’t leave. That’s how he ended up back in the cell,” L glanced to the door. “He attacked the nurses when they wouldn’t bring him a bottle. He wasn’t wanting to leave you to use the bathroom and they refused because he was perfectly capable.”

“Seriously?” for a moment she was annoyed. It was such a Beyond Birthday thing to do, so excessive, but that moment passed with a pang of heartache. Had he really been so invested in watching over her that he wouldn’t leave even to see to his own most basic needs?

He was devoted to his manipulation, but would he do that even when she was unconscious?

“One of the nurses will be scarred,” L explained, “four others were less seriously injured. They were lucky he didn’t have his knives.”

“Even without his knives he could have done much worse,” she reasoned.

“I know,” L acknowledged. “They are lucky to be alive.”

Beyond was still prowling round the prison cell, spreading jam all over the floor along with the glass from a smashed jar.

Obviously he knew he was being watched on the cameras, but did he know she was able to see him? If he was genuinely so distressed she was fairly sure that L hadn’t told him she was awake. However, if he knew she was watching this could all be manipulation.

“When you’re well enough, and you’re ready, I would request that you visit him,” L suggested. “I know you’re not getting along right now, but just to reassure him that you’re okay before he goes back to the USA.”

She couldn’t deal with the sight of him in such distress any longer, but she couldn’t close the laptop.

“Can’t I speak to him now?” she pleaded. “Maybe if I could call him, could Watari give him a phone?”

“He will likely just smash it,” L told her, but called anyway. A few moments later the slot in the door opened and a phone was pushed through. L called, offering her the handset.

On screen Beyond had frozen when the phone was placed into his cell, lip curling back in a snarl. He approached it cautiously, picking it up with the tips of two pinched fingers and holding it at arm’s length, assessing the screen.

“Answer, damn you,” Misora muttered, watching as he stared at the phone. It rang out, but she redialled immediately. His thumb slowly moved to hit the green button.

“Beyond it’s me,” she began, gasping when he threw the phone at the opposite wall of the cell. It ricocheted, landing in front of him, screen smashed but still her call did not disconnect. “Beyond…”

“Fuck you and your tricks L!” Beyond snarled, far from the phone but loud enough for it to pick up. “If she’s really alright, let me see her. I won’t be fooled by this.”

“Perhaps he thinks Watari is using old recordings of you to create a phone call,” L suggested, biting his thumb.

“Beyond, it’s really me,” she tried. Beyond picked up the phone again, holding it six inches from his ear. “It’s me… let me prove it, what word have I never said to you, what words can I say to prove I’m me? I’m real, I’m here, I’m okay…”

Beyond hissed air out between clenched teeth, drew in, looked to the camera.

“She sells sea shells on the sea shore,” he rattled off quickly.

“She sells sea shells on the sea shore,” she repeated, hopeful.

“Ooh, very good Watari,” he narrowed his eyes, still looking straight into the camera. “How about Anemone?”

“Anemone, and I’m not Watari, it’s really me Beyond,” she tried.

“Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch,” he smirked evilly. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“What the fuck, Beyond?”

“Don’t buy time, Watari, it’s the longest place name in Wales,” Beyond rolled his eyes. “Unless you can’t do it?”

“Beyond, I don’t even know what you just said,” she complained.

“Alright, I’m bored of this,” Beyond’s finger moved toward the red button.

“No! Beyond Birthday don’t you fucking hang up on me!”

“Ooh, did you have that one prepared in advance?” he giggled.

“Bailey Blackwood,” she warned dangerously, hoping the use of his real name would snap him out of it.

“Don’t,” he threw the phone across the room again, launching himself at the camera, not reaching it from the spring he could manage with just one full functioning leg. He scratched at the wall beneath it with his nails, roaring and screaming.

She could only stare, only watch. He wouldn’t be able to hear through the phone on the other side of the room. He clawed until his finger ends were bloody before curling up on the floor. After a very long time he crawled across to collect the phone, holding it near his ear as blood dripped down his wrist. He held his good knee to his chest with the other hand, curled up rather than crouching.

“Misora?”

What had changed? She breathed a sigh of relief that he seemed to be believing it was her.

“Beyond,” she began but stopped at the sight of his expression on camera. “Bailey.”

“Say it again, the full thing,” he demanded.

“Bailey Blackwood?” she questioned, cautious. What if he had another outburst?

“Again.”

“Bailey Blackwood,” she repeated. “Why?”

“It’s really you. You’re awake,” he sounded so tremendously relieved.

“What convinced you?”

“My name,” he remained vague, but hesitated, then expanded, “You have only said the full thing once before. That morning… when you told me you loved me, the day before the Kira ambush.”

She hadn’t realised. She was sure she’d used his real name before, but perhaps not the full thing.

“The tone you used then was very different,” he reminded her. “You sounded like you did love me then.”

He sounded heartbroken. Manipulative, even now?

“I did,” she told him coolly. “Then.”

“Are you well?” he asked instead of sounding disappointed.

“I was shot,” she reminded him. “But I will be. L’s paying for the very best medical care.”

“On top of your wages I hope,” Beyond’s hand closed around the phone, holding it right to his ear now rather than leaving the empty space. He released the leg that was held to his chest, slumping back against the wall and relaxing.

“Tell him yes,” L chipped in.

“L says yes,” she smiled at him gratefully. “He also told me you haven’t been eating?”

“Are you going to tell me off, Misora?”

“Yes,” she snapped down the phone. “He also told me you attacked the nurses?”

“Then he’s a filthy liar as usual,” Beyond denied. “They tried to restrain me to make me leave you. I just… fought back.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” he agreed. “But ask L. He has footage. He can show you. Do it now, I’ll wait.”

Misora looked to L, passing on the request, and the detective brought up the recording. To her amazement Beyond was telling the truth. The nurse had been the one to lay a hand on him first, only on his arm trying to gently tug him out of the chair but when he had resisted she had tightened her grip. It was no excuse for the attack that followed, Beyond launching himself onto her snarling, biting kicking and scratching, extending his attack to other nurses as alarms were pulled, but his version of events was technically true.

“You still shouldn’t have done that,” she pointed out. “They’re only trying to help.”

“They wanted to take me away from you,” he snarled. “That’s not helping.”

“You can stop pretending to care, you know.”

“I do care.”

“I’m not going to get you out of prison.”

“I know that.”

Huh, not what she was expecting, but no doubt all still a part of his manipulation.

“I will still visit you, when I’m well enough…”

“Will you bring jam?” he interrupted her promise. She sighed, and it tugged her stitches.

“Yes, Beyond, I’ll bring jam.”

“Bailey,” he corrected.

“Does it matter?”

“It does to me,” he argued.

“Bailey then,” she sighed again. “I’ll bring jam, but no more homework assignments.”

“If you wish,” he agreed. She waited for him to speak, but for a long time he was silent.

“If I hang up the phone will you go eat something?” she wondered. “Or will you just go back to destroying the cell?”

“Nothing in here to destroy except myself,” he told her. “Don’t hang up.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, just a request,” on screen he was smiling, a little smile of contentment, and even on his face it didn’t appear creepy. “You don’t have to talk or anything, just… stay.”

“I’m not really there,” she reminded.

“With my eyes closed I can pretend you’re here next to me,” he told her. “I can hear your breathing.”

“Stop it.”

“Darling…”

“Bailey, stop it now!” she would have yelled but couldn’t find the power in her injured chest. “Stop pretending.”

“Hmm,” he was still smiling. Her stomach turned as her heart ached, conflicted. A part of her desperately wanted to believe this was all real, that this wasn’t a manipulation of some form and that he really cared.

“Don’t call me darling,” she snapped.

“Have you told L your plans?”

“To have you go back to prison?” she looked to the detective. “Of course.”

“Has he made arrangements?”

L nodded.

“Yes.”

“Good,” Beyond sounded almost… relieved? “Where do you plan to live from now on?”

“I’ll have to come back to America with you,” she reminded him.

“You don’t _have_ to do anything,” Beyond denied, a note of irritability there. “Just because you're a sub doesn’t mean you have to submit in every aspect of your life. Not even to me.”

“I suppose I could video link to you,” she considered. “I would like to stay in Japan a while. I’ve missed it here.”

“Then that is what you should do,” he told her. “You should move on with your life. You don’t have to video link unless you want to.”

“Maybe I won’t,” she warned him. Was he trying to use reverse psychology or was he really just bored of her, though he pretended otherwise by asking her to remain on the phone just now? Now that she wasn’t going to be useful to him he was just going to wash his hands of her?

“I’m going to be selfish,” he told her warily. “I want to stay here, I want to see you once more before I go, when you’re recovered. Tell L.”

“L can hear you,” she glanced to the detective.

“It’s your choice,” L shrugged.

“…Alright,” she agreed. “Once more, when I’m fully better.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you go eat something now?”

“Will you stay on the phone?”

“No.”

“… will you stay if I don’t?”

“No.”

“… fine,” he agreed with a heavy sigh. His smile turned mischievous. “I’m giving you homework.”

“No you’re not,” she hung up the phone, but on the camera he opened his eyes and mouthed very clearly.

_Go fuck yourself, Misora._

She snapped the computer closed with a huff, suppressing her fond smile.

In his cell, the mischief left Beyond as he felt an unfamiliar ache in his chest, almost nausea inducing. He looked to the doorway, setting the phone down so that Watari could collect it and taking the container of homemade jam he had been provided. He winced as his stomach rumbled loudly and the ache in his leg hit him hard, anger no longer blunting the sensations.

He dipped his fingers into the jam Misora had made just for him, cautiously licking a little away. His stomach churned after three and a half days without any food, so he paced himself, taking just a little more rather than devouring it eagerly as he wanted to.

He would have to make the most of this. The jam she had made, specially for him, would be gone along with her. She would stay here in Japan, move on with her life. She would be happy here. He would go back to America, to his prison cell, but that was alright.

_Naomi Misora, you're far better for yourself than I ever was. You deserve your reward._


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misora's final visit to Beyond's prison cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All this from what was meant to be maybe a 25000 word short fic... well, it's book length so what d' ya know? I got carried away... This is the last chapter as 26 is an epilogue.

Rehabilitation was painful, even when it wasn’t rushed. Misora reminded herself of the old adage no pain, no gain, but what really kept her going were thoughts of how Beyond would respond if he saw her.

When she started chest physio, even taking deeper breaths was impossible. The pain was too great, but every time she wanted to ask the physio to stop for the day, thoughts of Beyond calling her a pussy or a coward or a sub came to mind and she pushed through. He wasn’t there to help her but somehow it felt like he was.

She was there watching on camera as he tolerated his own physiotherapist. He was less concerned by the pain than she was, more just angry when his leg would give way. She expected him to lash out at those times, when the malevolence would invade his expression and his physio backed away from him warily, but he would still, close his eyes, focus, and try again. She could see his lips moving sometimes when he stopped and wondered what he was saying.

L and Kira had left Japan, but Watari would spend alternate weeks with them. He brought updates, not that she needed them. Kira’s antics were a worldwide phenomenon. He was holding governments to ransom now, starting with the largest and some of the most corrupt. It seemed L’s network of contacts was useful for more than just catching criminals. With the government of Russia already fallen to Kira’s influence, he had more of a fight with the Americans on his hands. Several smaller more corrupt governments had also pledged their loyalty and changes were beginning to be seen there. Worldwide other countries were watching and some, without any steering hand from Kira, had begun to capitulate to the inevitable.

It seemed forever and yet no time at all when her physio was telling her that she was cleared, considered fit by their service. She wasn’t back to how she was before. She could hardly manage five minutes running on a treadmill before she had to stop. But five minutes on a treadmill was far further than they would usually assist their patients. They complained about acting as personal trainers rather than physiotherapists, and she was forced to acknowledge that she was putting off the inevitable.

Her visit to Beyond. Her final visit, perhaps, and then what? She could go on with her life, leave him behind her. She could not forget Beyond Birthday, the monster that murdered three people because of a grudge on L. The person who had torn apart Misa Amane right before her very eyes.

The man she had fallen in love with, albeit through manipulation and lies.

She could go with him to America. She could refuse to stop visiting him, but then what? How needy was she that she would continue to pursue any form of contact with such a man? He wasn’t interested in her. Only her ability to free him from a prison cell, which she had no intention of doing.

She had to put him behind her. She couldn’t help caring for him, loving him still, but she had to remind herself that the man she had fallen in love with was a lie. The real Beyond Birthday was the monster, not the man he had shown her over the years.

Except, she loved the monster as well.

The vengeful demon that woke when she was hurt, that tore Misa Amane apart, that led a Shinigami away from her at great risk to his own life. The one who attacked the guards at his prison because she was one day late for her visit, the one who fought the nurses because they wanted him to look after himself for five minutes rather than her whilst she was unaware and unconscious.

The guards of the Japanese prison were not so understanding of her outfit choice as the ones in America. They were not familiar with her, and they looked disapprovingly over her long boots with painfully high heels, her pencil skirted dress, her red leather jacket. They judged her for the B tattooed on her wrist, knowing who she had come to visit. They were uncomfortable that in the visiting room he was to be left unrestrained.

“L has cameras in there,” one of them told her in Japanese. “He will be watching.”

“He’s always watching,” she grinned broadly. “He’s such a pervert, don’t you think?”

The guard gawped at her, looking very unsettled. He hovered near the door to the meeting room, keys in hand but not putting them in the lock.

“Do you want me to go in alone?” she checked with him. “You don’t have to come in if you’re afraid of him.”

“That…” he hesitated. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” she continued to grin. “I’ll be fine if you want to get on with your work.”

“I have to stay to let you out,” he told her. “But if you’re sure it’s safe for you…”

“He wouldn’t ever hurt me,” even now she was sure. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

The guard nodded, unlocking the door and letting her in.

She stepped inside, the door closing and locking quickly behind her. She paid it no mind, smiling at Beyond’s turned back. He stood taller, maybe a result of the physiotherapy, maybe just because he could now that his leg was fixed. He didn’t slouch, didn’t look lazy. Actually, he looked quite tense, though his hands were in his pockets and his head was down.

“Bailey Blackwood,” she greeted, keeping her tone as neutral as she could but unable to hide a little of her fondness from breaking in to it.

He turned slowly, taking her in with a detached expression, eyes raking over head to toe.

“Naomi Misora,” he spoke quietly, so that she almost had to strain to hear. She refused to move closer, though she was sure that was his intent. “Or, perhaps not. The Misora I know doesn’t wear dresses.”

“They’re not my favourite, but I thought, since it was a special occasion…” she trailed off, a little embarrassed.

“Our last meeting,” he nodded. “I am… honoured.”

“You should be,” she teased.

“You look lovely,” he told her, still softly.

“Thank you. You look… well.”

“You always were too honest for your own good,” he chuckled. “Can’t even tell me I look nice today?”

“You’re covered in burns,” she reminded him bluntly. He laughed properly, but only for a moment.

“True enough,” he agreed.

“Why did you want me to come?” she questioned.

“It felt incomplete,” he shrugged. “We’ve known each other too long for things to end with a phone call.”

“You wanted to say goodbye?”

“I did.”

“Then say it,” she suggested. “And I will get out of your life.”

“Best not to rush these things,” he smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Would you prefer to sit?”

There was a table in the room with them, ignored till now. It had handcuffs, but he was of course not bound in them, and a chair on either side. She nodded, taking her seat on the visitor’s side.

“Is this going to be a mature conversation?” she wondered, watching his very slight persistent limp.

“Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“Yes, a little,” she admitted.

“I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be,” she reached out, over the white line on the cold metal. He didn’t meet her hand with his, leaving it lonely, palm up.

“I wanted to see that you were recovered,” he told her. “Take a deep breath for me?”

She smiled a little, following the command. “It doesn’t hurt at all anymore.”

“Good,” he considered her silently. “You’re staying in Japan?”

“I am, for a while,” she nodded.

“Best to,” he agreed. “America’s taken a stand against Kira. It won’t be safe there for a while.”

“Japan hasn’t exactly bent over backwards either.”

“Ah, but they will,” Beyond seemed certain. “Once America falls they can look back this way. Japan won’t stand a chance.”

They fell silent for a long moment.

“I’m not sure what I was expecting, coming here,” Misora admitted. “But it wasn’t this.”

“Did you bring any jam?”

“I did,” she took the container from her bag; home-made, her best work yet.

“Do you still have questions you want to ask me?”

Misora considered. Oh, she did… so many, truly. “Yes.”

“Then, would you be more comfortable if we play a game?” he took the container of jam, dipping his finger. “Oh, I’m going to miss this.”

The jam, she reminded herself, though he was looking at her.

“Never have I ever cried at a romantic movie,” he pushed the container to her, watching impassively as she dipped a finger and sucked it clean. So, he was starting off gently? She had so many questions, so many, but where to begin?

“Never have I ever manipulated a woman into having sex with me,” she suggested. Beyond rolled his eyes in irritation, taking the jam.

“Never have I ever told someone I love them.” Not so gentle now with his questions, Beyond gave her the jam.

“Never have I ever manipulated someone into loving me,” she responded, eyes narrowing. Of course he took the jam without complaint.

“Never have I ever been afraid of my own death.”

Misora considered as she took the jam. “Never have I ever thought that someone who I love was about to die.”

A dangerous question. A painful one. There was no way that he was going to take the jam, it was impossible. But she had to know for sure.

He remained, still and silent, the jam between them. He did not ask another question.

“Well?” she asked finally as he still lingered a minute later.

He looked up from the jam, meeting her eyes. There was anger in his gaze, enough to give her pause, but then he huffed and took the jam, and she gawped at him.

“No lies,” she hissed, getting to her feet.

“Never have I ever been in love with a murderer,” he challenged viciously, slamming the jam container down on the table, splashing its surface.

“What are you trying to get out of this?” she demanded but dipped her finger into the jam and sucked it into her mouth. “You’re going back to prison. You told me not to visit you.”

“I did.”

“You’re not interested in having me around anymore.”

“You need to get on with your life,” he told her. “You can’t keep visiting me and have a new relationship. It would be awkward.”

“So why lie and say you love me?”

“I’ve never said that,” he denied.

“You took the jam,” she challenged.

“Still, I’ve never said it,” he glared. “You couldn’t have just left that question alone, could you? Everyone dies, Misora. And who ever said you were the one I’m answering for?”

“Who else…?”

“Maybe A?” he raised a thin eyebrow.

Misora gawped, silent. Of course. A. She felt so stupid, forgetting. His one true friend, now dead.

Slowly she settled herself back into the chair, shame faced.

“Sorry,” she sighed heavily. “I didn’t mean…”

“You should go,” he pushed the jam further across the table, rejecting it.

“Now?” she frowned. “Like this?”

“Before you ask anything else you might regret,” he snarled.

She should be afraid, she thought. That look in his eye, that expression, it was the same as she had seen before. The same one that had terrified her so much when it was directed at her in the past, perhaps the same one he had worn before he tore apart Misa Amane, but she didn’t recoil from it.

“Bailey Blackwood,” she challenged. “Do you…”

She couldn’t say it. He stood, coming around the table and pulling her up by the wrists, pushing her towards the door.

“Go,” he demanded, shoving her forcefully into the metal.

“No,” she turned to him, his hands landing either side of her. He was so much taller than her, taller still with him standing straighter now. “I want an answer.”

“…Please, go,” he sighed, leaning towards her and resting his head beside hers against the door.

“Not without an answer.”

He growled, deep in his throat, pulling away from her sharply and pacing the other side of the table, fingers clawing at his hair.

“Why can’t you just be submissive this time?” he demanded. “I told you to go.”

“That’s your fault,” she reminded him. “I’m not going.”

“Will you go, if I say it?”

“Yes or no Beyond,” she demanded. “That’s all I need. Do you love me?”

“…will you go?”

“An answer.”

“…yes.” He spat the word like a curse. He stopped his pacing, turning to glare at her. “Now will you go?”

She stared at him, leaning against the door, suddenly feeling like it might be the only thing that held her up. Because, if this was manipulation, she didn’t see the point of it and it was so masterful that she was utterly convinced. She was sure it was true.

“No.”

He rounded on her, hands clenching into fists as he advanced, striking out. Missing and hitting the metal beside her head, though she hadn’t flinched or moved. She heard knuckles cracking, wondered if they had broken.

“Go,” he demanded.

“No,” she moved quickly, catching the back of his head and pulling him to her, meeting lips with his.

He groaned into the kiss, pushing her closely to the cold metal of the door as he stole control and she gave it without hesitation. Urging him on, she palmed his hard cock through his prison trousers, allowing her head to drop back as he nipped sharply at her neck.

“Don’t start what you aren’t going to finish,” he warned her, pulling away to meet her eyes. “Leave now, because if you stay, I’m coming with you when you do. And I have no intention of submitting to any pathetic little rules the world outside would expect me to follow.”

“When have you ever?” she questioned. She gave her answer by releasing the draw string of his trousers, freeing his cock for her to stroke, firmly, trying to mimic the pressure he needed to feel through his scars. “God, I’ve missed this.”

“It is a very nice cock,” he preened.

“Not your cock, just… this,” she told him honestly. “You. All of you.”

“Darling, I’ve missed you too,” he confessed, “not just this.”

“I believe you,” she teased, running her thumb over the head of his cock, making him gasp. He responded by pinching her nipple through her dress and she pressed her chest against his hand.

“When you came here in a dress, did you expect this?” he asked her. “Did you fantasise about what would happen when you came to me?”

“I thought maybe… you wanted to see me one last time for break up sex,” she confessed. “Not that I do that sort of thing, but…”

“But you’re willing to do all sorts of things with me that you wouldn’t for anyone else,” he grinned. “Naughty girl.”

One of his hands ran up her skirt. She was stroking him too quickly, and he had not felt her touch for weeks, but she didn’t want to have to wait. She needed him inside her. She needed to be filled by him, was already so ready. His fingers found her cunt, wet and spread for him.

“No underwear?” he chuckled. “You were looking forward to this.”

“Maybe a little,” she admitted, blushing. “Please…”

“Please what?” he taunted.

“I want you,” she told him, “I want you to fuck me, hard, and I don’t want you to hold back. Don’t pretend. I want _you._ ”

“Fuck, darling, I do love you,” he growled against her neck before he bit down above her collar bone, sucking in the skin to leave a mark. Two fingers pressed inside her and she rocked onto them and his palm, moaning. “You want the monster?”

“Yes,” she breathed, a confession as much as a demand.

“Go to the table,” he demanded, releasing her. “Lean over it, spread your legs.”

She did exactly as he commanded, thinking that he would bind her wrists with the handcuffs but the angle was awkward for that from her side of the table and with her height, so they were left aside. He kicked off the prison issue trousers before he joined her, his hands grasping her hips as he lined up his cock with her wanting cunt.

“Stop!” she yelped it suddenly, a thought coming to her.

Beyond held still, hands still grasping her hips, frowning down at her in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just…” she counted back in her head, counted again. Swore internally. “We can’t do this.”

“I told you not to start what you can’t finish,” he complained, not moving.

“My birth control’s out of date,” she admitted with a blush. “Injection…”

Beyond began to giggle, a little before he caught himself, but after a moment of holding his breath the laugher burst out uncontrollably.

“Oh, we can,” he told her, one hand releasing her hip to trace back from her folds, around to her arse. He glanced at the camera in the room. Misora’s eyes followed his to the unwelcome reminder. “L, where have you hidden the lube?”

To Misora’s horror a panel in the wall opened, stocked with more than just the lube that Beyond collected. She took the opportunity since she had been reminded of the pervert watching them to hook her red leather jacket over the camera so its only view would be of the inside lining. The camera jerked up and down as L tried to shake it off but it held firm.

“What else is in there?” she wondered, unable to help her curiosity as Beyond had left the panel open.

“Nothing that would interest you…” he began, immediately making her suspicious. She dropped and spun, capoeira training in action, dropping below as he tried to catch her before she could get to the hidden compartment and pulled out the object that remained inside. “Naomi…”

“What’s this?” she questioned, though she could very well see what it was. She held up the large dildo by one of the leather straps connected to it, a harness. “Beyond, it seems the pervert had something very specific in mind he wanted to watch…”

“I’m the top,” he complained, trying to snatch the strap on from her.

“Never have I ever used a strap on,” she challenged.

“Never have I ever been fucked by one,” he responded angrily. “But I have no interest in trying it either.”

“None?” she pulled her best pout. “You’ve corrupted me. Won’t you let me corrupt you?”

“No.”

“Pity,” she fitted the harness around herself, assessing how the substantial toy looked on her small frame. Utterly ridiculous, but his eyes were wide when she checked. More than a little tempted, but stubborn. “I had this lovely idea about being the Agent interrogating my suspect for information, fucking the information out of you…”

“Oh fuck,” he groaned. “You really want to…?”

“Think you can take it?” she challenged, smirking.

“Oh, bring it on,” he dared, going to the table and fixing the handcuffs around his wrists, looking round at her expectantly.

“Ryuzaki,” she began, but he immediately frowned. “You’d rather I just call you Beyond, even though we’re playing?”

“You don’t have to roleplay,” he told her, testing the handcuffs. “I just don’t trust myself not to try to stop you if my hands are free, or not to hurt you if I… like this. And, I would rather you call me Bailey when we’re alone.”

“Bailey,” she smiled at him, considering the bareness of the lower half of his body and adjusting the strap on so that it was below her dress. “No roleplay?”

“Just you and me, darling,” he promised. “We don’t need roleplay.”

She found herself pausing, smiling fondly at him until he glared at her, impatient.

“Sorry,” she took the bottle of lube to him, spreading some over her fingers. “Good thing I don’t wear false nails.”

“Get on with it,” he demanded, and she suspected he wished he hadn’t handcuffed himself now. She was almost tempted to make him wait even longer, just because she could. However, she suspected she would regret it later if she did.

Instead, she pressed a single finger through the tight ring of muscles at his arse. She had only had this done to her once and the experience was enough to put her off for life, uncomfortable and unpleasant as it had been, so she wasn’t quite sure how to make this better for him aside from being more careful, going more slowly.

“For fuck’s sake, Misora, I’m not made of glass,” he complained, clenching around that singular digit. She obliged him with another finger and when he growled low in his throat, looking round over his shoulder at her, a third with some difficulty.

He clenched tight around the three, moaning when he released the tension and she moved them within him. Surely this couldn’t feel good, too much too soon? It had to be sore…

It had to be sore. She leaned in to speak quietly in his ear. “Bailey, are you a masochist?”

“What was your first clue?” he sniped back.

“And here I thought you were a top,” she teased.

“It’s possible to be both,” he complained. “Think you could fit another yet?”

She blinked, wondering if she did whether he would be demanding even more than that and deciding against it. Even strap on wasn’t that big. She drew her fingers out, wondering at the way he was using the handcuffs to hold himself up, hands clenched around the chains. His legs had given out on him some time after they had started, his entire weight rested on the table.

“Gently or…?”

“If you’re gonna do it, do it right,” he demanded, “but with plenty of lube.”

She laughed as he betrayed that very slight hint of nervousness, but she did thoroughly coat the strap on before she, with some difficulty and assistance of her hands, aligned it with his arse and pushed it inside, meeting very little resistance from his willing body.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, pressing back on to her.

“Bailey,” she teased. “You know what this makes you?”

“I’m not a sub,” he growled.

“I wasn’t going to say that,” she giggled as she rolled her hips, trying to find some way to create thrusts of the strap on within him. It wasn’t really working, not conventionally, but what she was doing must feel good enough since he was practically writhing on the table top, groaning shamelessly. “It makes you my bitch.”

The growl that tore from his throat was purely animal, one bare foot stomping on hers protected by its shoe.

“You’ll pay for that,” he snarled between gasps as she managed to find a way to manoeuvre the false cock within him to hit his prostate as she thrust. “Oh, fuck…”

“Hmm, I’m sorry, what was that?” she taunted, wrapping her hand around his cock. “Bitch.”

“You’ll fucking… pay… oh shit…”

“I’ll look forward to it,” she stroked over the head of his cock in time with the thrusts of the strap on, finally beginning to really feel the effects of where the toy pressed against her as well, where the leather strap ran over her clit and between her folds. “You’re going to make a mess of the floor, bitch.”

“I am, fuck, I am,” he agreed enthusiastically. With every thrust of the strap on he pressed forwards into her hand, whilst every time she drew it out a little he followed, seeking it, seeking more.

“Say you’re my bitch,” she demanded, letting go of his cock. “Say it and I’ll let you come.”

“Oh, when we get out of this cell I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight for days,” he snarled at her.

“Hmm, try that again?” she stopped her movements inside him, waiting him out.

“I’ll fuck you up,” he warned.

“I could just leave you like this…”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You taught me well,” she reminded him. “What are you?”

“Your bitch,” he spat.

“Good boy,” she praised, redoubling her efforts with the strap on until he was spilling all over the floor. There was something wonderful about seeing him coming apart whilst she was still only prepared, something powerful in it that she hadn’t felt before. It wasn’t better than an orgasm, admittedly, but as she drew out of him and left him there, boneless and relaxed across the table, she couldn’t wipe the grin from her face.

She took the jacket back from the camera when she was cleaned up and without the strap on, looking straight down it to L.

“We’ll be needing the handcuff keys,” she told him.

* * *

 

“What happens now?”

“Now we leave this prison,” she told him.

“Together?”

“Together,” she agreed. A little wince as she recalled what Beyond had told her that night so many weeks ago about L’s intentions for their relationship, but steeled herself and bit the bullet, “until death do us part.”

“Careful or I’ll make that official,” he warned, thumb tracing her wrist with the B. “Where will we go?”

“Perhaps L and Kira could use a pair of Shinigami eyes?” she suggested. “Or we could just find our own place somewhere?”

“Perhaps we should cement our position at the top in Kira’s new world order first,” Beyond agreed with her first suggestion. “Then we could find a place. Although…”

“Yes,” she prompted, concerned.

“Since you suggested it I’ve been thinking about getting a wire fox terrier,” he admitted.

She laughed. “Well, I suppose I could handle that.”


	26. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little story.  
> Epilogue aka how far Misora has fallen or what do you expect from Beyond really?

Misora happily greeted three excitedly barking wire fox terriers as she returned home, carefully removing her favourite red leather jacket before she scooped one of them into her arms. Aside from the dogs the house was quiet, and she was instantly suspicious.

“Beyond?”

Silence still. That was never good. She wandered through to the kitchen, expecting a mess. The last time he had attempted to make her jam recipe she had been finding strawberry gloop for weeks. How he had got it on top of the light fittings she couldn’t figure out. But the kitchen was spotless, as was the dining room.

She pushed open the door to the living room, closed it, set down the dog and shut it out of the dining room. She went back to the living room, opening the door slowly.

Blood. Everywhere. Spots on their floors, ceilings, walls. And in the centre of it all, Beyond Birthday. Laid out like he was making angel shapes in the blood, not moving. Naked.

But also not obviously injured, and not pale (no more so than usual, anyway) and so she just sighed heavily and walked over to him, nudging him with her foot.

“Are you alright?”

He opened his eyes, looking up at her.

“Oh don’t worry this blood isn’t mine,” he said like that explained everything.

Misora glared at him. “That’s exactly what I _am_ worried about.”

“Oh,” he giggled, letting his head drop back to the floor. “I’m having a bit of a bad day.”

She looked around herself at the mess. It would be impossible to get the stains out of the curtains, and the walls would probably need to be repainted. Now that she looked more closely there were knife marks in one of the sofas, and a bullet hole in her favourite chair.

“Really?” she scoffed. “I never would have guessed.”

“You were wanting to redecorate anyway,” he reminded her.

“Missing the point Beyond,” she rolled her eyes. “Whose blood is this?”

“Ah, some teenager came to visit, Mihael Kheel? Called himself Mello?”

“You killed L’s successor?” her eyes widened though her tone remained flat.

“Nah,” he giggled. “Mello’s sound. Good guy. Bit weird.”

“Really?” she raised an eyebrow. “Mello’s the weird one?”

“Have you met his boyfriend?” Beyond challenged. “There’s no accounting for bad taste I suppose.”

“Near’s not so bad,” she was familiar with them both from her ongoing work with L. Beyond didn’t come to the headquarters any more (there was that day when he’d nearly killed secretary for getting his coffee wrong, the day he had broken all the elevators in the building because he wanted to see what happened if Mikami got stuck in one with their newest investor and the investor had somehow mysteriously died, the day when he had put slow acting poison in everyone’s coffee and only given the antidote to people who filmed themselves having sex in the next 24 hours and gave him the tape…) but she knew Near as well.

“So, Mello and I went out for drinks yesterday,” he explained. “I’m not sure what happened from there…”

“What were you taking?” she questioned patiently. There was one chair that seemed unaffected by the blood splatter, so she sat in it.

“Not sure, Mello’s choice,” Beyond looked a little sheepish, knowing that Misora highly disapproved of his occasional drug use. “Anyway, next thing I know I’m waking up in a dark room with this guy speaking Chinese – you know I’m bad at Chinese. He was saying something about Kira, and I suppose I just… went off a bit.”

“That doesn’t explain why the blood’s all over our living room?”

“I’m getting to that. This isn’t his blood,” he looked at her like that should be obvious. “So once that guy was dead I broke out. Turned out we were in a Chinese police station and the man I’d killed didn’t know my name but had been brought in after they recognised me from that TV spot we all did a few months ago?”

“Who was he?” she asked suspiciously.

“Some sort of ambassador,” he confessed. “Didn’t really catch the details. It was in Chinese, I’m bad at Chinese, and when they started shooting I didn’t stop to ask.”

“Ah,” she nodded for him to continue.

“So once Mello blew up the police station we borrowed one of their cars to get back to the airport, but the security had a bit of a problem with the blood on my clothes, the rubble on Mello’s and our lack of passports,” he shrugged again. “We called Light and he smoothed things over. But by the time we got back here there was a bunch of Chinese special ops waiting for us.”

“So you killed them?”

“Nah, Mello knew them, invited them in for coffee,” he explained. “ _Without_ sugar.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” Beyond rolled his eyes. “Like I said, he’s weird.”

“You still haven’t explained the blood on the walls.”

“Well it turned out one of them had given Mello a false name, which immediately made me suspicious.”

“So you killed him?”

“Nah, drugged him, asked him a few questions,” he laid his head back onto the floor. “He was sound. Just a little paranoid.”

“Beyond?”

“Yeah, yeah, names and Kira,” he waved off the huge risk of going by your real name these days so casually. “He told us about this other guy he knew, one who was working against Kira. I got him to invite him over…”

“So you killed _him?_ ”

“Nah, he’s chained up in the basement, Mello thought he was pretty and apparently it’s an open relationship because Near’s asexual and Mello’s…”

“Beyond,” she snapped, losing her patience.

“Horny as fuck,” he finished.

“Who does the blood belong to?”

“Oh, Mrs Adelman came over to bring cookies,” he told her casually. “She stepped on Trixie.”

Trixie was one of their three dogs.

“…so, you killed her?”

“Yup,” he nodded, looking serene.

“Our eighty-year-old neighbour?”

“Her time was up anyway,” he shrugged.

“This is all her blood?”

“Yup.”

“That’s not okay.”

“You said that the last time.”

“Where’s the body?” she wondered, looking around, half expecting it to be propped up against a wall somewhere.

“Mello took it to get rid of.”

Ah, so he’d caused a major diplomatic crisis and killed their neighbour… Fine. That was a fairly standard Tuesday for Beyond Birthday, she supposed.

Just one question left then.

“And where are your clothes?”

“In the washer,” he shrugged. “Thought you’d appreciate it if I cleaned up a bit.”

“By washing your clothes and leaving the room like this?” she questioned.

“Cleaned myself up I mean,” he grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “You know killing makes me…”

“Oh fuck that,” she laughed. “I’m not having sex with you until you’ve cleaned every inch of this room.”

“I’ve called Matt’s clean up business,” he pleaded, looking hopeful. She sighed heavily. Matt’s men _were_ the best, and they would definitely do a better job than Beyond.

“Fine,” she agreed. “But we’re not sharing the dungeon.”

Beyond pouted but picked himself up onto all fours on the floor, crawling across to her through the blood.

“How about under the bed?” he looked hopeful. She glanced around the mess of the living room. Well, it would be better than here.

“How… romantic,” she gave him her hand, together heading for the bedroom.

Watari was right; Beyond was a monster. The monster that lived under the bed, no less. But in Kira’s new world, perhaps that was okay. Every civilisation needed a monster, a bogey man, a creature for ordinary people to fear to keep them under control. And maybe nowadays she wasn’t exactly an angel, either, as she stripped of her outer layers of clothing, revealing the blood red lingerie beneath and allowed her monster to bind her hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos really keep me motivated to write, and tell me that you're still interested, especially on a less common pairing like this. Please, if you can spare a moment, hit that kudos button and if you're especially generous, let me know what you think, or even what you would like to see happen. Inspiration can come in many forms!


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